Camdens In Wonderland
by Hoedogg
Summary: COMPLETE! The Camdens accidentally eat "special" brownies. Wacky hijinks ensue. Not recommended for younger readers.
1. Unfinished Business

DISCLAIMER:  I'm proud to announce that I do not own the characters from 7th Heaven, nor will I be profiting from their use in this original work of fiction that I have written.

This story was inspired by the events of the episode "Gabrielle Come Blow Your Horn", and will contain some mature themes.  However, they will be presented very immaturely, because I'm really just a twelve-year-old at heart.  Readers, proceed at your own risk.

***

Gabrielle awakened from her wine-induced slumber knowing that she had just had the dream again.  She had dreamed it at least once a week, ever since that fateful day she had spent trying to help the uptight Camden family.  In the dream, she made passionate love to Reverend Eric Camden, riding him like a stallion, riding, riding, about to reach her climax, when…

She woke up, unfulfilled, every time.  This, of course, was a sign that she had not finished her job.  Sure, she had shaken things up a bit, served the family some spaghetti with wine sauce, and shared a cigar with the Reverend.  But she had failed to lead them onto the true path to enlightenment and, after all, hadn't that been her job?  No wonder she kept having the dream.

Fortunately, the problem would be an easy one to fix, and it wouldn't take much time at all.  For, every time she had failed to accomplish her mission on the first try in the past, she had succeeded on the second try by serving people her wonderful, magic brownies.

Newly inspired, Gabrielle rose from bed with excitement and readied herself for the day.  Foregoing a shower, change of clothing, or application of deodorant, she simply gathered her special ingredients into her giant handbag, grabbed the day's bottle of red wine and loaded it into the bag as well, then headed out the door to catch a bus to the Camdens' house.

When she reached the Camdens' front door, she playfully rang their doorbell and then hid behind the doorway.  Annie Camden opened the door and, seeing no one, hollered in a perturbed voice, "Hello?"  Annoyed by the lack of response, she hurriedly began to close the door.

At that moment, Gabrielle jumped in front of her and shouted "WAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

"Oh my goodness!" a startled Annie shouted as she clutched her racing heart.  "What on earth are you doing you…crazy, lunatic woman?!  If you didn't have that cast on your arm, I would slap you!"

"Oh, slap me anyway, honey.  It's early in the morning.  I could use the refreshing sting!" Gabrielle teased.

"Why are you here…_again_?!" queried Annie, more than a bit disquieted at the reappearance of such a forceful disturbance.  This, after all, was the woman who had somehow convinced her husband, Eric Camden, not to care about being a Reverend anymore.  Annie was somehow certain of Gabrielle's influence in that matter, even though she was unable to prove it.

In answer to Annie's question, Gabrielle responded, "Honey, I'm back because the first time around, I didn't finish the job I was sent here to do."

"Well, quite frankly, I'm glad you didn't finish that job," Annie retorted.  "If you had, then I don't know if Eric or the rest of us would be living here anymore.  Would that have made you happy, you…old hag, you?"

Gabrielle winced.

"I'm sorry.  That was a bit harsh," Annie reproved herself.  "But I still think you should leave.  I don't want you to do any more damage to this household."

Gabrielle shook her head back and forth.  "I'm not here to do damage, sweetheart.  I'm here to repair."

"Repair _what_, exactly?" Annie asked skeptically.

"To repair everything that has been damaged over the last several years," Gabrielle answered vaguely.

"Oh great, well there are a number of cracks in the plaster on the basement walls, so why don't I just grab the spackle for you," Annie volunteered sarcastically.

"Not those kinds of repairs, dear.  I'm talking about the kinds of emotional repairs that no one here has been able to make.  If you can't admit the problems in the first place, then how can you fix them?"

Annie bristled.  "Listen, lady, I don't know where you've gotten all this psychological mumbo-jumbo from, but it's not welcome here.  We're doing quite well handling our own problems, thank you very much.  Now I'm going to tell you one more time.  Leave!"

"Can't do it.  You know who sent me."

Annie slowly lowered her head, sighed heavily, closed her eyes and nodded.  "The Colonel."

"Yup.  Do you really want me to call and tell him that you turned me away?  If I do, you know he'll hop on the next flight out here to fix your problems _his_ way."

"God, no!" Annie blurted before she could catch herself.  Then, resignedly, "Please, won't you come in?"

"Oh, thank you dear.  I thought you'd never ask," Gabrielle said patronizingly.

She headed straight for the kitchen to get right down to business.  Annie followed her closely, offering to help.

"Actually, dear," said Gabrielle, "it would be most helpful to me if you would just go upstairs and let me be while I do my work down here.  Okay?"

"Forgive me, Miss…what was your name again?"

"Gabrielle."

"Right.  Forgive me, Gabrielle, but I'm not sure I trust you enough to leave you by yourself downstairs."

"Oh, alright then.  Why don't you send the dog down to watch me?  Or maybe those cute little twins of yours?"

"I've got a better idea," said Annie, doing her best to cloak her smoldering temper.  "Why don't I ask Kevin Kinkirk, Lucy's fiancé, _the cop_, to come down here from the garage apartment and keep an eye on you."

"No way, José!" Gabrielle protested.  "No cops, fiancés, girlfriends or boyfriends of the Camdens are allowed in this kitchen while I'm working today."

Annie caved in with frustration.  "Fine.  I give up.  I will go upstairs and leave you alone, but before I go, I want to know exactly what you will be doing down here and how long it will take you."

"Simple, dear!  I'll be baking brownies.  It should take me less than an hour."

Annie's eyes bugged out.  "I'm sorry, did you say, 'baking brownies'?"

"Why, yes, I believe I did."

"Then, why, exactly, could you not have baked them in your own apartment or cave or dungeon or wherever it is that you call home?  I mean, do you not own a stove?"

Gabrielle put her good hand on her hip and said, "Huh!  Funny.  I wonder why I never even thought about that.  Well, I guess I _could_ have done this at my own place.  Oh, but then I would have missed out on the pleasure of your company, hon!"

Annie threw her hands in the air in exasperation and shouted, "Fine!  Bake your stupid brownies!  I'm going upstairs to pray for the serenity not to come downstairs and strangle you while you work!"

"Calm down, honey, everything's going to turn out juuust fine," Gabrielle soothingly murmured after Annie as she stormed up the kitchen stairs.  Then, to herself, "Gabrielle's got a biiig surprise in store for the Camdens today!"


	2. Infectious Curiosity

"Annie, whom were you talking to downstairs?"  Eric Camden asked lazily from his resting spot atop the master bed.

"Oh, it's that ridiculous Gabrielle woman," Annie answered agitatedly.  "She's back, and she's baking brownies in _my_ kitchen!  Of all the nerve…"

Eric's ears perked up at the mention of Gabrielle.  An involuntary smile passed his lips as he dreamily muttered, "She's back?  That's nice.  I liked that woman."

Annie stared at him in shock.  "You did?  Eric, don't you remember?  She tried to kill you with the wine, and the cheese, and the cigars, all right after your open-heart surgery!"

Eric turned his head toward the window and the bright sunlight streaming in.  "She wasn't trying to kill me.  She was trying to get me to _live_ again."

"Oh what a load of hooey," Annie said dismissively.  "Just go back to watching your baseball game and forget I even mentioned her.  I'll be shooing her out of the house as soon as she's done with her little cooking spree anyway."

Without turning from the window Eric unthinkingly protested, "Actually, Annie, baseball season is over.  This is football.  Southern Cal is playing…"

"I don't care!  Just watch your game, and I'll handle the crazy old bat," Annie barked as she headed out to check on the twins.

"Sure.  Whatever," Eric muttered absently to no one in particular as he lethargically turned from the sunshine back to the cathode ray projection.  For some reason, Eric found that the game suddenly held no interest for him anymore.  Or maybe it never had in the first place.

As the green football field blurred in and out of focus and his thoughts ran astray, he stumbled upon the realization that he hadn't really planned to get out of bed today.  There had been no reason for him to do so.  It had become all too clear to him lately that his family members were self-sufficient – save for the twins, who had Annie to mother them.   And besides, Eric sadly but honestly acknowledged to himself, he had little interest in nurturing them even if they needed his help.  He couldn't remember the last time he had spent more than five minutes at a clip with any of them other than Annie, yet it didn't bother him a bit.

In addition, outside of Eric's family, Glenoak's finest new associate pastor was now available to help Eric's former parishioners.  So, clearly, no one needed him around anymore.  But now that he knew Gabrielle was in the house, he contemplated rising just to see what was going on.  There had to be an explanation for her reappearance, and unlike most of the other recent happenings in the Camden house, he actually cared to find out the reason behind it.

The sound of a blown whistle snapped Eric back into the moment.  He decisively pushed the "Power Off" button, tossed the remote control onto the bedspread, and stepped into the bathroom for a shower.

***

Alone in the kitchen, Gabrielle took her ingredients from her handbag and placed them on the Camden counter.  She set down the boxes of brownie mix, the vegetable oil, and the carton of eggs, none of which had cracked or made a mess during transit, thank goodness.  Of course she would have to borrow a bit of milk from the Camden refrigerator, but they would never miss it.

"Confound it, now why on earth would a family this size buy a twelve-pack of individual-sized Chugs when a gallon jug would do just fine?" she muttered to herself as she searched for milk.

As Gabrielle rummaged, Ruthie Camden stepped downstairs to see a strange behind protruding from her refrigerator.  Terrified, she shrieked, "Mom, Dad, come quick!  Someone's stealing our food!"

A startled Gabrielle hit her head on the ceiling of the fridge as she spun around to pinpoint the source of the commotion.  "Ow, that's gonna leave a nasty bump," she moaned as she patted her crown.

"Oh, it's you!"  Ruthie relaxed and tried to suppress a laugh, for her twelve-year-old sensibility found the sight of the head-rubbing, wild-haired, broken-armed free spirit quite comical.  "What are you doing back here?  We thought we'd never see you again."

"Well, you wouldn't have, except I didn't finish my job the first time," Gabrielle explained.

"What job?" Ruthie asked.

"The job the Colonel sent me here to do."

Ruthie narrowed her eyes as if to read the woman and then, having completed her analysis, said, "You're not going to tell me what that job is, are you?"

"I'm afraid I can't, sweetheart."

"Well, whatever it is, can I help?" Ruthie eagerly offered, figuring that perhaps by offering her services, she might find out more about Gabrielle's mysterious mission.  And, of course, she _had_ to know what it was.

After grabbing a milk chug, Gabrielle closed the refrigerator door to take a better look at the young girl.  She said, with a hint of surprise in her voice, "Well, Ruthie Camden, you sound like you've changed into a different person in the mere weeks since I was last here."

"Me?" Ruthie pointed a finger at herself questioningly.  "How so?"

"Last time I was here, you wouldn't help your Mom do something as simple as bake a cake.  And now, here you are, volunteering to help."

"Oh yeah, I guess you're right.  I've changed for the better," Ruthie agreed immodestly as she recalled her childish behavior during Gabrielle's last visit.

"Well, listen, kiddo.  There _is_ something you can do to help me."

"What's that?"

"You can leave the kitchen and give me privacy while I do my work.  Oh, and make sure no one else comes in and bothers me either."

Instead of leaving, however, Ruthie folded her arms and stared at Gabrielle suspiciously.

"Go on, dear.  What are you waiting for?"

Ruthie coolly said, "I feel like it's only fair to warn you that sooner or later I'm going to find out what you're up to."

"I'm sure you are, dear," Gabrielle agreed indifferently.  "Which is why I'll just give in and tell you now:  I'm baking brownies.  By the way, isn't it about time for you to walk your dog now?"

Thrown for a loop, Ruthie shifted and said, "It's not my dog, it's Simon's.  And besides, how do you know she needs to be walked?"

Gabrielle tilted her head toward the door, where Happy stood scratching and whining to get out.

With an irritated sigh, Ruthie grabbed Happy's leash from a hanger and hooked it onto the dog's collar.  Before leaving, however, she turned to Gabrielle and said inquisitively, "Last time it was spaghetti, this time it's brownies.  Did the Colonel just hire you to cook for us?  Mom's not going to like that.  This is her kitchen."

"Believe me dear, she's made that perfectly clear.  And no, he did not hire me just to cook for your family."

"Then what _did_ he hire you for?"

Gabrielle shrugged to let Ruthie know that was a question she would not answer.

"Oh well.  I'll be back in about five minutes, and when I get back I'm going to keep pestering you until I find out why you're really here."

"Such an enquiring mind," Gabrielle muttered as Ruthie exited and closed the door.  Then, to herself, "No problem, though.  Five minutes alone is all I'll need to work my magic!"


	3. Saturday Morning

She was gone when Ruthie and Happy returned from their short walk.  The only evidences of her visit were her brownies baking in the oven, and a note on the kitchen table weighted down by a bottle of wine.  Ruthie walked over to the table and lifted the bottle to read the note.  It was written on a borrowed piece of Annie's stationery and in juvenile, scrawling penmanship, it read:

_Dearest Ruthie,_

Be a doll and take those brownies out of the oven at exactly 10:30.  Be careful not to burn yourself!  Set the brownies on the counter and let them cool for 15 minutes.  THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT SO PAY ATTENTION:  They are magic brownies, but the magic will only work if the right people eat the right brownies.  Follow this color code EXACTLY:

Green  pan = brownies for you and the twins 

_Yellow pan = brownies for Lucy and Simon_

_Orange pan = brownies for your father_

_Red pan = brownies for your mother_

_NO ONE ELSE IS ALLOWED TO EAT MY MAGIC BROWNIES!!!_

_Please destroy this note as soon as you have finished reading it.  Also don't tell anyone about it, because the magic brownies only work when people don't know they're magic._

_Love,_

_Gabrielle_

_P.S.  The wine is for your father._

Ruthie stared at the note and scratched her head.  _Magic brownies?  What did that mean?  Was Gabrielle some kind of witch?  Would it really be safe to eat bewitched brownies?  Then again, Gabrielle's spaghetti had been the best that the Camdens had ever tasted.  Maybe her magic would make the brownies taste just as good._

A sense of apprehension gnawed at Ruthie's subconscious and told her something didn't feel right about the whole situation, but the prospect of eating magic brownies was too enticing for her to pass up.  So she took a saucer from a kitchen cabinet and pulled a book of matches from a drawer.  Then she placed each item on the kitchen table, crumpled Gabrielle's note, set it in the saucer, struck a match, and lit the paper.  In a matter of seconds, the note had been reduced to a pile of ashes.  Ruthie then dumped the saucer's contents into the trash, placed the dirty saucer in the dishwasher, and climbed the stairs up toward her room.  As she climbed, she set her digital watch to alarm at precisely 10:30 AM.

***

Simon Camden's alarm had gone off hours ago, but still he lay in bed knowing he should have gotten up by now.  He should have, but he hadn't, for there were a million good reasons not to get out of bed.  It was so comfortable and warm and quiet.  There were no responsibilities there, no squawking girlfriends, no nosy parents and siblings, no homework, no part-time jobs, no dogs to walk, nor twins to feed.  Just his long-neglected friend:  sweet, silent sleep.

And so Simon lay there for the majority of that Saturday morning, subtly drifting in and out of consciousness, until a pleasant and familiar fragrance wafted its way up toward his nostrils.  He recognized it instantly:  brownies.  Mom had used to bake them all the time, but lately, not so much.  Simon deeply inhaled the aroma, and it had a waking effect on him much like the smell of brewing coffee.  He decided it was finally time to get up, so he forced his feet onto the floor and slogged toward the bathroom to take a refreshing shower.

***

Eric Camden had just finished his shower and begun to towel off when his wife burst into the bathroom, pulled down her pants, and sat on the toilet to pee.

Startled and embarrassed, Eric sputtered, "Annie, couldn't you have waited until I was done drying off, or at the very least knocked before coming in here?  Or else couldn't you have used the bathroom down the hall?"

"Well I would have used the other bathroom, but Simon's taking a shower," she answered above the background tinkle rising from the bowl below her.  Eric continued to stare at her so she added, "Oh come on, Eric, this isn't anything you haven't seen before."

Seeing that Annie was firmly ensconced on the toilet, Eric abandoned his ill-fated desire for any remaining boundaries of privacy between the two of them and defeatedly resumed toweling himself.  As he toweled his bottom, he exposed himself to his wife of many years.  At the sight of his manhood, Annie's eyes began to twinkle.  "Oh, Eric," she smiled seductively.  "Guess what I'm thinking about right now?"

"Probably the exact opposite of what I'm thinking," Eric answered off-puttingly.  Seeing his wife's disappointed pout, he continued, "Look, Annie, you know I love you.  It's just that…well, you know.  Lately, my…um, my drive hasn't been where it used to be before the surgery."

Annie's pout grew more sullen as she wiped and said, "Actually, your drive hasn't been where it used to be since I hit The Change."

Without denying the accusation, Eric said, "Sorry.  But right now I just want to get dressed and talk to Gabrielle to find out why she's here."

"Ha!  Good luck," said Annie as she pulled up her pants and flushed.  "That woman's more cryptic than the Riddler.  Although she looks more like the Joker."  Annie chuckled at her own joke, but Eric ignored her and walked over to the closet to pick a shirt.

***

Lucy Camden looked at her shirt disapprovingly in the mirror.  "No, no, no!  This one won't do either!"

"What are you doing?" her sister Ruthie asked her from across their bedroom.

"I'm trying to pick out a shirt for my date with Kevin tonight.  He's taking Roxanne and me to the movies, and I want to wear something hot so that he'll notice me instead of Roxanne."

"He's taking you on a date _with his partner?" Ruthie asked incredulously._

"Yes, he's trying to get Roxanne and me to be friends."  
"Why?  You two hate each other."

"I wouldn't use the word hate.  I would just say that I dislike her.  Intensely.  But Kevin says that if I can't accept her as his partner at work, then he can't accept me as his partner in life."

Ruthie rolled her eyes so blatantly that Lucy could see her doing it in the mirror from all the way across the room.

"What?" Lucy spun around and asked her irritatedly.

"Look, I know the guy is a hunk and everything, but why do you let him boss you around so much?"

"He's not bossing me around.  We're making compromises and sacrifices.  That's what people do in a relationship."

"Well, what sacrifices has he made for you?" Ruthie asked.

"Um, for starters, he moved all the way out here from Buffalo just to be with me.  That was no small life change for him," Lucy answered snidely.

"Well are you going to let him hold it over your head for the rest of your life?" Ruthie asked.

Lucy found herself without a comeback, so she said dismissively, "You don't know a thing about love.  You wouldn't understand."  Then she turned her back on Ruthie to face the mirror again.

Sensing that their conversation was over for the moment, Ruthie checked her watch.  10:15.  Only fifteen minutes until she would have to go downstairs to remove the magic brownies from the oven.


	4. Magic Brownies

At 10:30 AM Simon shaved his peach fuzz, Eric slapped on some cologne, the twins played with blocks in their room, Annie busily tried to help Lucy pick a nice shirt for her date, and Lucy tried as politely as possible to get rid of Annie and her unsolicited advice.  Everyone was busy, so no one noticed as Ruthie slipped downstairs to remove the brownies from the oven.  She turned the oven off, opened it, put on oven mitts, carefully removed each pan, and placed each one on the kitchen counter to cool.

"In fifteen minutes, you'll be ready for us to eat you," Ruthie told the brownies with a nod of approval.  As they sat and cooled, Ruthie visually inspected each brownie pan.  They were basic metal cooking pans, but their exteriors appeared to be hand-painted in the colors that Gabrielle had mentioned.  "Green for me and the twins, yellow for Simon and Lucy, orange for Dad, red for Mom," Ruthie reminded herself.

Just then, Eric Camden strolled downstairs.  "Mmm, I smell brownies."

"They're not done yet.  They need to cool, so hands off.  The ones in the orange pan will be yours," Ruthie bossily informed him.

Eric inspected the contents of each pan and wondered, "They all look the same to me.  Why am I supposed to eat the ones in the orange pan?"

"I dunno.  'Cause Gabrielle said so."

Eric smiled.  "Well, Gabrielle knows best."

As Annie stepped down the stairs to the kitchen, she overheard that last comment.  "Um, excuse me but I thought Mom knew best.  Remember me?  Annie Camden?"  She thumped her chest mightily.

"Right," Eric conceded obediently.  "Gabrielle knows _second best."  He wasn't in the mood to pick a fight with Annie this morning, especially after having denied her a lovemaking session for the umpteenth time in the last several weeks._

"Speaking of Gabrielle, where is that crazy old woman?" Annie asked.

"I think she's gone.  She left that bottle of wine for dad before she left, though," Ruthie answered.

"Score!" Eric shouted with glee as he danced over to the kitchen table to caress the green bottle.

"Oh no you don't, mister!" Annie scolded as she snatched the bottle away from him.  "You are on heart medication and you will not put yourself at risk for an alcohol interaction!"

"No, of course not, Annie," Eric hung his head.  "I'll just keep living as far from the edge as possible, the way I have been all these months since my surgery," he mumbled to himself.

"What did you say?" Annie asked sharply.

"Nothing, dear.  By the way, am I allowed to eat brownies?" he added, with an almost imperceptible hint of sarcasm.

"Yes, you are allowed, but not until they cool.  Although I'm not so sure I trust this woman enough for us to eat her brownies."

"Hey, we ate her awesome spaghetti and that didn't kill us," Ruthie said.

"No.  Not yet, anyway," Annie said, glaring meaningfully at Eric.

***

"Brownies, brownies, brownies, I'm gonna eat some brownies," Simon sang tunelessly as he slapped on some manly-scented aftershave.  Then a horrible thought occurred to him.  What if the brownies weren't for him and the family?  What if Mom had made them for a church bake sale or something like that?

As he picked up a comb and looked in the mirror to begin straightening his hair, he began a mental dialogue with his image:  "God, Camden, are you really so pathetic that missing out on some brownies would spoil your entire day?"

"Well, considering that eating brownies was the only reason I got out of bed this morning, yes."

"Dude, that's just sad."

"I know.  It's fucking pathetic.  But that's my life story.  I'm a Camden.  Each of us is pathetic, in our own unique way."

"So true."

***

10:45 arrived and Ruthie excitedly announced to a hovering, hungry Eric, "OK!  They're ready!"

Annie selected a serrated knife from a drawer and began to cut the brownies into squares.  Ruthie grabbed some plates from a cabinet and began to place the cut brownie squares onto them.  She was careful to keep all the brownies from the green pan on one plate, all the brownies from the yellow pan on another one, and so forth.

"God, those brownies smell great, Mom," Simon chirped as he entered the kitchen from the stairway.

"I didn't bake them," she snapped back at him.

"Oh."  Simon paused for a minute, then wondered aloud, "Wait a minute, did _you bake these, Ruthie?"_

"Nope," she answered with her mouth full of one of the goodies from the "green" plate.  "I only took them out of the oven to cool."

"So if neither of you two baked them, then who…"

"Gabrielle, OK!  It was that loony tunes broad who made the spaghetti that every one of you keeps reminding me was the best you ever tasted," Annie spat at Simon.

"Geez, sorry I even asked," said Simon as he grabbed a brownie from the "orange" pile with no further questions.

"Wait!" Ruthie shouted.  "That one is for Dad.  These are for you and Lucy," she handed Simon the plate full of brownies from the yellow pan.

Simon looked at his father quizzically, but Eric just shrugged as if to say, "Play along with it."  Simon shrugged in return and handed his father the brownie.  Eric shoved the entire brownie into his mouth and chewed gleefully.  Shortly thereafter, a rapturous look washed across his face.  "Oh, these brownies are so good," he moaned blissfully.  Annie shot daggers at him from her eyes, so he quickly leaned toward Simon and unconvincingly added, "But not nearly as good as your mother's brownies."

"What are you, kidding?  These are great!" Simon mumbled cluelessly through a mouthful.

"Easily the best brownies I've ever eaten," Ruthie concurred.

In consternation, Annie grabbed a plate and asked Ruthie, "Whose brownies are these?"

"Mine and the twins'," Ruthie answered nervously.

Addressing them all, Annie hissed, "I'm taking these upstairs to the twins.  If you know what's good for you, don't follow me.  In fact, don't even speak to me for the rest of the day."

"Hey, wait a minute!  Where are you taking my brownies?" Ruthie hollered as she ignored the warning and followed her up the stairs.

Simon watched with shock as his angry mother clomped upstairs with Ruthie in tow.  "What's with her?" he wondered.

"Your mother's feeling a bit underappreciated today," Eric answered.  "It's probably my fault."  Then he muttered, "Everything's my fault."

"Whatever.  All I know is, these brownies kick ass."

"Simon, language."

"Sorry, Dad," Simon mumbled through another mouthful.  Then he added, "You know what would make these brownies even better?  Milk."

Eric nodded and began to eat another delicious brownie from his pile, while Simon grabbed two Chugs from the refrigerator.  Noticing that only two brownies were left on Simon's plate, Eric reminded him, "Don't forget to save some for Lucy."

"Aw, come on, Dad.  I've barely had any and now there's only two left," Simon whined as he set the Chugs down on the counter.

Eric sighed and offered a compromise.  "Fine.  Why don't you have a couple from my plate?  You're a growing boy and you can certainly use these more than I can."  Of course, neither of them had put too much stock in Ruthie's insistence that specific brownies were intended for specific individuals, and so neither saw the harm in Simon eating from Eric's pile.

"Thanks, Dad," Simon said before grabbing a brownie from Eric's plate and shoving it into his mouth.


	5. Insatiable Appetites

"Sam, David!  Look what Mommy has for you!"

"Mmmm, bwownies!" the twins uttered simultaneously, as if they shared one mind.

"Yes, bwownies," Annie cooed at her little angels, lovingly mimicking their mispronunciation.

Ruthie spied the scene from the doorway to the twins' room, disgustedly wondering how the woman who had gone ballistic in the kitchen mere moments ago could be so gentle and sweet now.  She jealously watched as each twin grabbed a brownie and stuffed it into his mouth, getting crumbs all over the floor in the process.  After a minute or two of eating, a thick, messy brown residue surrounded each twin's mouth and fingers.

"Oops!  Let Mommy go get a washcloth from the bathroom to clean those messy faces," chirped Annie as she set the brownie plate down on a chair.

Ruthie ducked behind the doorway and waited for Annie to step into the bathroom.  Then she swaggered into the twins' room and declared, "Those last two brownies are _mine_!"  
"No, mine," Sam and David droned, grabbing onto the plate.

"Don't make me hurt you," Ruthie warned as she wrestled the plate from their weak grasps and began to dash for the exit.

"Mom!" the twins shouted, beginning to tear up.

"What is it dears?" Annie asked as she ran back into the room, blocking Ruthie's escape.

"She's taking our bwownies!" Sam sobbed as he pointed at Ruthie.

Annie turned venomous eyes on her daughter.  "I thought I told you not to follow me here."  Then she crossed her arms, disappointedly shook her head and said, "This is really low, Ruthie.  You ate your fair share of brownies downstairs.  These are for the boys."  She grabbed the plate from Ruthie and growled, "Go to your room NOW!"

Ruthie fled in terror, and the twins' sobbing quieted down.  "I'm sorry, dears," Annie turned to them with a smile.  "Eat your last brownies and then Mommy will clean you up."

***

Lucy was searching through a glamour magazine for the perfect hairstyle when Ruthie ran into the room, jumped onto her bed and buried her head into the pillow.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked curiously.

"Mom's mad at me," Ruthie muttered into the pillow.

"What'd you do now?"

Ruthie lifted her head and turned to face Lucy.  "It's not fair.  I just wanted one more brownie, but Mom gave the last ones to the twins."

"Wait a minute, Mom made brownies and you didn't tell me?  Why didn't you tell me?  You know I love brownies!" Lucy shouted.

"Relax, there should still be some left for you in the kitchen, but..."

But before Ruthie could finish, Lucy bolted from the room.  She was more concerned about getting to the brownies before her brother with the bottomless stomach finished them than sticking around to hear Ruthie's problems.

***

"Tell me you didn't eat all the brownies," an out-of-breath Lucy panted to Simon after having raced downstairs.

"Don't worry, there's two left for you on that plate," Simon nodded toward the plate containing the remaining brownies from the yellow pan.

"Well, what about that plate full of brownies over there?" Lucy pointed to Annie's untouched plate.

"We're not really sure who those are for, but we assume they're for your mother," Eric answered.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ruthie said something about the different plates being for different people."

Lucy shook her head in confusion.  "Wait, Ruthie baked these?"

"No, Gabrielle baked them," Simon chimed in before he washed down Eric's last brownie with some milk from his Chug.

"Gabrielle was here?  Oh great!  Again, I'm the last to know!" Lucy pouted.  She dejectedly picked up a brownie from the "yellow" plate and nibbled on it.  Almost instantly, her countenance brightened.  "Oh my goodness!  These are so good!"  She took a larger bite, and then another in rapid succession.  In moments she had finished off both brownies and desperately announced, "I have to have one more.  Do you think Mom would mind if I took one off her plate?  I mean, she can't eat that whole pile by herself, can she?"

"Frankly, I don't think your Mother wants anything to do with these brownies," Eric told her.  "She doesn't seem to trust Gabrielle enough to want to sample her cooking."

Lucy had heard enough to feel justified, so she grabbed one of Annie's brownies and shoved half of it into her mouth.

"Dad, do you think Mom would mind if I ate one of her brownies too?" Simon asked sheepishly.

"Simon, how many of those things have you eaten already?" Eric asked with astonishment in his eyes.

"I dunno, I lost count.  But I have room for one more."

Eric sighed and said, "Fine, but just one.  And then I'm taking the rest of her brownies up to her."

"Dad, are you crazy?" Simon asked with his mouth full of his latest brownie.  "You heard what she said.  She doesn't want us to talk to her."

"I know, Simon.  But I think she'll want to hear what I have to say."  He walked over to the bottle of wine Annie had taken from him earlier, opened it, poured two glasses, grabbed her plate of brownies, and headed up the kitchen stairs.  Once he had reached the second floor and was out of Lucy and Simon's earshot, he began singing to the tune of Willie Nelson's "On the Road Again," with slightly altered lyrics:  "In the mood again/Reverend Camden's in the mood again…"


	6. Remaking Love

"Annie?  Oh, Annie?  Wherever are you, darling, beautiful wife of mine?" Eric Camden gushed as he peeked around upstairs.

"Are you talking to me?" Annie confronted him with hostility in her voice as she stepped out of the twins' room.

"Yes, I am speaking to you because you speak to me, you sweet, sexy woman."

Annie wrinkled her forehead.  "I 'speak' to you?  Eric, what on earth are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the curves of your body inside that sweater, and the way the corner of your mouth lifts up into a sensual smirk…" Eric said as he reached out to stroke Annie's cheek.

"_How dare you_?" Annie protested, slapping his hand away.

Unfazed, Eric continued, "How dare I what?  Tell you how much I love you and how unbelievably attractive I find you right now?  And how much I want to carry you into our bedroom and make love to you this very instant?"

"Yes, that!  How dare you?"

Eric paused to think for a minute.  Perhaps the gifts he bore would help to soften her.  Tenderly, he said, "I…I brought some wine, and some brownies."

"What?  Are you trying to bribe me for _sex_?"

"No!  Not at all.  I just…thought it might break the ice a little."

"Oh, so now you're calling me icy?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Well let me tell you something, Eric Camden, _darling, beautiful_ _husband of mine_," Annie sneered.  "You can take that wine, and you can take those brownies, and you can shove them where the sun doesn't shine!"  She stomped into their bedroom and slammed the door.

"Mommy's mad at Ruthie and Daddy," Eric heard David's voice from the doorway to the twins' room.

"Don't worry," Eric said, approaching his sons.  "Daddy's going to talk to Mommy and make things better."

"Gwape juice," Sam said, pointing to Eric's wine glasses.

"No.  Not grape juice."  Eric sighed and shook his head.  "You two just go back to playing with your blocks, OK?  Daddy and Mommy will be in the next room if you need us."  Eric started to walk away but hesitated as he decided to amend his last statement.  "Actually, if you need someone, why don't you find Lucy instead?  Daddy expects to be kind of busy with Mommy for the next half hour.  Maybe more."

"I like Lucy," David offered proudly.

Eric nodded and mouthed the word "OK".  Then he left the twins, walked over to his bedroom, and rapped lightly on the door.

"Go away!" the response rang loud and clear from inside.

"Not until you let me in!"

"How could you go away if I let you in?  Or how could I let you in if you went away?  Honestly, Eric, that doesn't even make any sense!"

"Neither does the way we're yelling at each other right now!"

After a pause, the door opened a crack in front of Eric.  Annie peeked through the opening and hissed, "You know good and well why we're yelling right now."

"Really, Annie, I don't.  Are you feeling underappreciated?  Is that it?"

"Sort of.  It just…well, it bothers me that you made me feel like Gabrielle was more important than me.  The way you didn't want to…you know…earlier because you wanted to find out why she was here instead.  And then when you and the kids told me how much better her brownies were than mine?"

"I never said that."

"You implied it.  And then you had the nerve to come up here begging for me to make love to you as if nothing had happened.  What on earth made you think I would say yes after the way you shot me down cold earlier?"

"I thought you might still be in the mood."

"Well I'm not!"

"Well, maybe the wine and the brownies will help.  You know, I've heard that chocolate can elicit a sexual response sometimes."

Annie bit her lip as she thought for a minute.  "Really?"

"Yeah.  I think I read it in a magazine or something."

"Hmm.  So you think that, maybe if you get me drunk and feed me chocolate you'll get me in the sack?"

"That's what I'm hoping."  Eric thought he saw the slightest gleam in Annie's eyes.  

"You really are feeling frisky right now, aren't you?"

"Yes!  I really am.  So what do you say?"

A slow, seductive smile spread across Annie's lips as the door opened wide.  "I say come on in, you big smooth-talker.  You've got some making up to do!"

*** 

They faced each other on the bed, his head at the foot and hers on the pillows.  Minutes passed quickly as they sipped their wine, each watching the other adoringly and contemplating a first move all the while.

The wine glasses emptied themselves much faster than Eric had anticipated.  "Wait here.  I'll go grab the bottle."

"Hurry back!" Annie pleaded.

Eric heeded.

***

Upon his return, he poured them each a fresh glass.

After several more minutes of mutual admiration and seductive staring, the glasses had somehow gone empty again.

Eric poured two more glasses.

By noontime, the bottle sat empty on the nightstand.

***

Strong.

He felt like he was.

Stronger than before the heart surgery; not the most recent surgery but the first surgery.

Strong like when he was young, and he had first met the free-spirited blond with whom he had just known he would spend the rest of his life.

Passion unlike he had felt since then; he felt it again now as he laid on the bed, watching her, admiring her feminine features while he fed her brownies by hand, letting her lap the chocolate off his fingers with long, languorous licks.

"You are inside me," he heard himself say to her.  "And I want to be inside you."

"I want you inside me," a breathless voice responded.

His moist fingers found their way to the base of her sweater, lifting it gently over her head.  Her lips pressed against his own while his fingers circled around her hips to the small of her back, swirling there momentarily before dancing their way up to undo her bra clasp.

The bra slid to the floor and two mounds of heaving flesh pressed themselves against his chest.  His lips slid down her chin, gently across her neck, down her chest, to taste the tip of one of the heaving mounds.  Her body quivered as a low, quiet moan of pleasure escaped from her lips.

Her fingers – still delicate and feminine after so many years – opened his top button, releasing his neck from the prison of his collar.  One by one the buttons opened, revealing the scar tissue of two surgeries.  She traced her fingers amorously across his repaired chest, trailing through the light forest of hair that had grown back since his latest operation.

His hands dropped across her stomach down to her waist, aching to remove the fabric walls, which prevented them from becoming one.  Her hands dropped down too to help him speed up the process.

And then he entered her.  For the first time in months, perhaps years, he remembered what it was like to be inside her, to want to be there, and to be welcome there.  He remembered the warmth and love that had once been there.

He remembered the way he felt that day in the church so many years ago when they had exchanged their vows.   He remembered the passion and strength he felt in his heart for her as he said, "I do".  He remembered the way it felt to finally consummate their marriage that night in the hotel room, the passion and strength in his heart, and the love in hers.  He remembered, and a silent tear of joy slid down his cheek.

For that afternoon, by some stroke of magic or miracle of God, in the bed he hadn't planned on leaving all day, for the first time in months, perhaps years, he knew without a doubt that the passion and strength had returned to his heart, and the love had returned to hers.


	7. Not Wanting

A/N:  Big props to Cathryn for helping me out with a key transitional sentence in this chapter.

***

She had not wanted any of this.

Her years of coldly controlling the family.  The rudeness, standoffishness, and unfairness she had exhibited toward them.

It kept getting worse over the years, but the menopause pushed it over the edge, turning it from control into abuse.  She banished her children to an uninsulated, unfinished garage apartment.  No running water.  No food.  No heat.  No supervision.  It was abuse.  She knew this.

And she hated herself for it, would not let herself feel the touch of her husband, nor the joy of making love to him.  A horrible woman like her did not deserve such pleasure.

The guilt and self-hatred etched lines on her face and put weight on her frame.  She no longer felt vibrant and sexy, no longer wanted her husband to see her unclothed.

She had not wanted any of this.

But, like all things on this earth, the dark times eventually ran their course.  Her family forgave her, as they had been trained to do.  Her hormones gradually released their death-grip on her emotions.  She softened, and she began to feel sexy again.  Unfortunately, it was too late.

Her husband had hardened, and he wanted little to do with her anymore, in the bedroom or elsewhere.  Working, stalking his children, trying to convince Matt not to convert to Judaism, things such as these became his primary pastimes.  Anything to avoid spending time with her.

Until the weight of it all – the burden of heading a family of seven children as well as a large suburban church parish – crashed down upon him mightily, and his doctors recommended surgery.  Weak heart.

So weak he couldn't find the strength within himself to tell her about it at first.  Doc and Uncle Hank he told right away, but not her.  No.  Instead he took the family bowling to distract them all and then he hemmed and hawed and waited until late that night to finally tell her about his surgery.  Put it off until the last minute.  She couldn't help but think it was her fault, that her past behavior was to blame for the fact that he hadn't felt comfortable enough to tell her.

She had not wanted any of this.

Then came his laziness, his despondence, his weeks of incessant moping during recovery.  Her attempts to attract his attention and refocus it back onto her and his church work proved futile.  Two things he had used to be so passionate about, he now seemed so uninterested in.

Was this, too, her fault?  Was the grimy residue of her menopausal psychosis still coating their relationship, his life?  Or was there something inside him that she was unable to see, a deeper issue, that caused him to lose interest in her?  Was it something to do with his weak heart?  Was she part of the burden, the very thing that had made it weak?

Who knew?  He wouldn't touch her, even when she wanted him to, and he wouldn't talk to her about why.  He would just sit on the porch strumming his son's guitar, or hole up in his office to work on his smutty novel.

Until this morning.  Something unusual had happened.  Although he had initially refused to make love to her, something had rousted him.  And that something was named Gabrielle.

She had not wanted any of this.

But somehow, despite the fact that so little had gone her way before now, the seismic shift needed to push the two back together finally occurred.  Despite the fact that she had blown up at Eric in the kitchen, he had forgiven her, which led, of course, to the sloppy hand-to-mouth feeding session in the bedroom, eating her rival's brownies, and drinking her cheap wine.

And as she and Eric traded drunken, sloppy kisses, and as they shed item by item of clothing, enthusiastically getting to know each other once again as wife and husband, for some reason it all felt right again.  It felt like those early days before the children had arrived, when everything was fresh and new, and their love had weathered even the darkest of times, like her best friend's untimely death.  Today, Eric's love felt like the love she had once known could overcome anything.

Where had this love been hiding for these past few years?  Why had it not shown itself in a single action between the two of them for such a long time?

Did it matter?  No.  Not on this day, not with the bedroom door closed and the sun shining through the window and birds chirping outside, and her husband's love inside.  Today it felt right, all the way into the afternoon.

And this she had wanted with all her heart, for all these many years.


	8. Let's Go

"What do you think Dad's going to say to Mom to calm her down?" Simon asked Lucy as she sipped a milk Chug.  "Do you think he's going to tell her that he's ready to be a minister again?"

Lucy set the Chug down and looked at Simon as if he were stupid.  "Does a guy who wants to go back to ministering carry a bottle of wine up to his wife?"

Simon shook his head, strewing sloppy bangs all across his forehead.  "Well what then?"

Lucy's scowling pencil brows betrayed her total lack of interest in the conversation.  She impatiently tapped the countertop and asked, "Simon, why do you even care?"

"Because, I might need to know these kinds of things, like what to say after a pointless argument and all that.  You know, in case Cecilia wants to argue for no reason or something, like you and Kevin do all the time."

Lucy rolled her eyes.  Figuring that the blunt truth ought to shut him up, she blurted, "Dad and Mom are going to have sex, OK, Simon?  Make-up sex, which, from everything I've heard, is better than plain old ordinary everyday sex.  Although I wouldn't know, of course."

Repulsion passed over Simon's face.  "Ew.  They still do that?"

"Duh."

"I thought they stopped after Mom went through, you know, the Change?"

"I don't think so, Simon.  They're still married."

"But Dad just had surgery.  Won't that be bad for his heart?"

"He had the surgery a long time ago, Simon.  I think he's OK again now.  I also think you shouldn't be so concerned about Mom and Dad's sex life.  It's kinda creepy."

Simon looked a bit queasy.  "You're right.  Talking about this is making me feel ill.  I'm going upstairs to lie down."  He gingerly placed a hand across his stomach and stood up to leave.

"Yeah, I'm sure it was the conversation that made you feel ill and not the dozen brownies you ate," Lucy chided him as he walked upstairs from the kitchen.

As he reached the top of the stairs, his stomach gave an audible rumble.  "Ugh.  Maybe I did eat too many brownies," he muttered aloud to himself as he stumbled toward his room.

"Woof!" Happy responded from atop his bed.

"Move over girl.  I need to lie down."  Simon plopped down on his bed, displacing Happy onto the floor from her comfortable resting position.  After both a whimper and a brief, sad glance failed to elicit a response from her owner, she walked out of the room with her head down and her tail between her legs.

"Look, Sam!  It's Happy!" David's shrill voice blasted Simon's ears from the hallway.

"Let's play horsey with Happy," Sam suggested in his much quieter voice.

"No, guys!  No playing horsey with Happy!  She doesn't like it." Simon passively commanded from his bed.

The giggles and barking that reached his ears from the hall informed Simon that the twins had ignored his command.

"Oh, whatever," Simon muttered, getting up to close his bedroom door and block out the noise.  He dropped back onto the bed and remembered how pleasant it had felt earlier in the morning, under the covers, snug and warm, everything quiet and peaceful.  Maybe now his stomach would settle back down, with the re-introduction of a little tranquility and comfort into his day.

He lifted his right foot and placed it under the top edge of his blanket, followed by his left foot.  Then he slowly slid his slight frame under the covers and wrapped himself up into a cozy ball.

Peach rays of sunlight slanted through his venetian blinds and hit his rump, warming it more than the rest of his body.  Simon noticed the temperature difference and chuckled to himself, "Hmm, I've got a hot ass."

"You sure do," arose an unexpected voice from his open closet door.

Startled, Simon raised up in his cocoon of blankets.  He relaxed, though, when he saw who was speaking to him.  "Oh, it's just you.  Wait a minute, what the hell are you doing in my room?  How did you get in here?"

Morris smiled his usual, sly smile.  "Never mind all that.  Let's talk more about your hot ass."

"Dude, shut up.  The sun was hitting it and I was half-asleep and thinking out loud."

"You think about your hot ass when you're half-asleep and dreaming?  What a coincidence, so do I."

"That's funny, man.  Really."

"I'm a funny guy."  Morris leaned against Simon's desk and pushed his trademark golden locks back from his mischievous face.  "So, what's been going on here since I left for college?  Anything interesting?"  

"Man, if you only knew.  For starters, Lucy got engaged to Kevin.  Mary moved to Fort Lauderdale with a man twice her age, but they broke up.  Dad had another heart attack, but he's OK now.  Robbie seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.  Oh, yeah, and I've got a girlfriend."

Morris's head snapped back in surprise.  "You?  A girlfriend?"

Simon angrily furrowed his ample brow.  "Yeah, man.  What's so hard to believe about that?"

With a chuckle and a wave of his hand across his lips to hide the emerging smirk, Morris lied, "Nothing."

Righteously indignant, Simon half-yelled, "Oh, I get it.  You still think of me as 'Virgin Camden', right?"

Morris folded his arms and looked pensively at Simon for a moment.  "No, it's not that, exactly."

"Well what, then?"

"It's nothing, really."

"WHAT?" Simon demanded, infuriated.

"I just…well, I always thought you were…you know."

"No, I don't know.  What did you think I was?"

"Gay."

"What?"

"I thought you were gay."

"You…you did?  But…but, why?" Simon stammered.

"I don't know.  I guess because you weren't like any other guy I had ever hung out with before."

"Oh.  You mean I wasn't a dumb misogynistic jock?"

"Fair enough.  But also, like, sometimes when you looked at me, it seemed pretty intense."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah.  And then you have to admit, the way we used to always get into little pointless arguments and shit?  It was almost like flirting, wouldn't you say?"

Simon began to see some disturbing parallels between his relationship to Morris, Lucy's to Kevin, and his mother's to his father.  He pulled the covers further up over himself and recoiled a bit.  "You're not making any sense at all, dude.

"I'm making perfect sense, Simon.  You're just too blind to see it."

Simon frowned.  "All I see, dude, is that you were hiding in my closet, and then you came out and started talking about my ass, and now you're suggesting things that weren't really true.  I don't get it."

"No, you sure don't, do you?  At least, not from that skanky girl of yours.  What's her name?"

"Hey, she's not a skank.  And her name is Cecilia."

"Heh, Cecilia.  Like that Simon and Garfunkel song.  'Simon and'…hey, wait a sec.  Her last name's not Garfunkel by any chance, is it?"

"No, you idiot."

"Oh, damn, that would have been a funny coincidence, wouldn't it?"  He turned around, reached behind him, and picked up something he had found earlier in the closet.  "Hey, you play the guitar?"

Simon shook his head, trying to shift mental gears along with Morris's abrupt subject change.  "Yeah.  You knew that."

"I did?  Oh.  Anyway, I have a proposal for you."  He gently strummed the guitar as he sauntered toward the bed.  "Simon?"

"Yes," Simon asked, looking at his friend with twinkling, nervous eyes.

"Let me be your Garfunkel," Morris fell across Simon's bed, collapsing in a fit of unbridled, silly laughter.

"Dude, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Simon asked as he jumped out of bed to avoid getting slammed into.

Morris abruptly stopped laughing and looked at Simon very seriously.  "Nothing's wrong with me.  It's you who has the problem.  And I think you know it, too."

Simon crossed his arms sternly.  "I really don't think so, dude.  Seriously.  In fact, I think you ought to leave now."

"Oh yeah?" Morris stood up and puffed up his chest.  "You wanna fight?"

"No!  Get the fuck out."

"No, seriously, Camden.  You wanna go?  Let's go.  Right now."  Morris balled up his fists and lifted them like a prizefighter.

"This is utterly fucking ridiculous.  Are you on drugs, man?"

Morris smiled and relaxed.  "Me?  You ought to check out those bloodshot peepers in the mirror, bro."

"What?"  Simon wandered over to his mirror to inspect his eyes, and that's when he noticed the damnedest thing.

There were tropical fish swimming in the mirror.

Brilliant blue and yellow and orange and black and white fish.

Swimming.

In the fucking mirror.

"Morris?"

"Yes?"

"Do you see the fish?"

"The ones in your mirror?"

"Yeah."

"No."

Simon spun around, perplexed.  "Wait a second.  If you didn't see them, then how did you know they were in the mirror?"

Morris grinned reluctantly, as if he had tried but failed to hold something inside.  "Alright, alright, I was just messing with you, man.  Of course I see the fish.  In fact, I see everything you see."  He paused, then dramatically repeated, "Everything."

Simon gulped.  "What are you talking about, Morris?  Seriously, man.  What the fuck is going on here?  I'm starting to freak out."

"No, no!  Don't do that, kid.  That's the last thing you need to do right now.  Just lie down and ride the wave."

"Ride the wave?"

"Yeah.  Echo much, Camden?"

"But I don't understand…"

"You will, in time.  But first, you have to take a journey with me."

"A journey where?"

"Lie down and I'll show you."

Simon stared at him from across the room, not sure anymore whether he could trust his eyes.  Was this really Morris, or just another fish in the mirror?

"Simon, it's OK.  I'm not going to hurt you.  Just lie down."

Slowly, Simon crossed the room to his bed and descended once again onto its fluffy, comforting surface.

Morris, standing next to him, took the boy's hand gently and asked, "Are you ready to fly?"

Timidly, Simon nodded.

"Well then.  Let's go."


	9. Bad Trip

Afraid of the unknown journey upon which he was about to embark, Simon tightly closed his eyes.  Gradually the sensation of light faded around him, eventually disappearing behind his eyelids like a sunset.

"Where am I going?" he asked without looking.

"It's okay.  You'll be with me," Morris responded enigmatically, still gently holding the boy's hand.

"That doesn't answer my question.  _Where_ are we going?"

Again Morris avoided answering, opting instead to change the subject entirely.  "Simon, if you had one wish in this world, what would it be?"

Eyes remaining closed, Simon thought for a moment.  "Hmm, that's tough.  I don't know.  World peace would be nice.  So would an end to hunger.  Gosh, it's a tough call, Morris."

"Okay, then let's narrow it down a bit.  If you had to wish for something for yourself, what would it be?"

After another moment of thought, Simon answered, "Well, I guess I would wish for my family to be safe and happy."

"No, Simon!" Morris grumbled, a trace of annoyance detectable in his voice.  "I'm talking about a self-oriented wish.  If you could have one thing for yourself – not for the world or your family, for _yourself _– what would it be?"

Simon finally opened his eyes to answer. Yet, before the words could escape his mouth, the sight of his surroundings mesmerized him.  As before, he lay atop his bed, his hand still in Morris's.  However, now the two of them appeared to be floating through pitch-black outer space.

"Oh my God.  Where are we?" he asked in awe.

"We're traveling.  And you didn't answer my question."

"Dude," Simon's voice squeaked, "How am I supposed to concentrate on your stupid question when I could roll the wrong way off my bed and fall into complete nothingness?"

"You won't fall.  I've got your hand.  But if it will make you feel better, then why don't you look over the side of your bed and tell me what you see?"

Swallowing hard, Simon slowly moved his head toward the bedside.  Then, cautiously, he peered over the edge.  Below, he saw the same bedroom floor he had stepped onto every morning for years.  Startled, he jerked his head around to look at Morris and the utter blackness surrounding him.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"The…the thing you just did.  With my floor…and the outer space all around us?  How…how did you make my room go away but leave the floor?"

Morris's sly grin re-appeared.  "I didn't do anything.  Now, are you going to answer my question?"

Simon looked at him disbelievingly.  "No!  You didn't answer mine; why should I answer yours?"

"Simon, I answered.  Come on, man.  Be fair."

"No you didn't.  I asked how you did this and you said you didn't do it."

"That's because I didn't.  It was an honest answer, and I expect one from you in return."

"But, Morris, if you didn't do this, then who did?"

Morris flashed a tender, knowing smirk.  "Why, Simon, you did, of course."

"I did?"

Morris nodded.

"You're telling me that I vaporized my room and, in fact, the entire world, except for my bedroom floor?"

Morris nodded.

"Bullshit.  All I did was lie down on this bed and close my eyes and take your hand."

"And that was enough."

Furious with all the cryptic talk, Simon let go of Morris's hand, crossed his arms, and pouted.  "Fuck this!  I want my room back."

"Simon, no!" Morris shouted as he began to float away from the bed into vapor space.

Realizing what was happening, Simon reached out for his friend.  But Morris had floated too far away for Simon to reach him without leaving the bed.

"Morris, wait!" he shouted from atop his blankets.  "Please, Morris!  Come back to me!"

"I'm sorry, Simon.  You let me go.  It's too late," Morris shouted as he drifted further out, as if being sucked away by some giant, invisible vacuum cleaner.

"No!  Morris, don't leave me!  I'm floating through outer space on my freaking bed and I'm really scared, and I don't want to be alone!  I'm sorry I didn't answer your question!  If you come back I promise I'll answer it!"

"I'm sorry, Simon.  The pull is too strong.  I can't make it back to you.  But tell me now!  What would you wish for?"

"I'd wish for you to be back here with me, now!"

"No, Simon!  That's not a good enough answer!  It's not what you would have said before you let me go!"  Morris shouted from so far away that Simon had to strain to hear him.  "Look, Simon, don't be scared!  You're strong enough to make it through this journey on your own!"

"I am?"

But before Morris could answer, the darkness swallowed him.

***

Simon lay atop his bed, floating through silent, dark, boring outer space for what seemed an eternity.  Every now and then he thought he caught a flash of color in the corner of his eye, but whenever he turned, there was nothing to see.

To pass the time, he tried to think of a reasonable answer to Morris's question.  What would he wish for?  What one thing did he want most for himself?  No matter how much time passed, though, Simon couldn't think of a satisfactory answer.

"This trip is boring.  I wish Morris were still here."

"What do you want that mamby-pamby, sissy-prissy boy around for, Private?" boomed an intimidating voice, from somewhere.

"_Oh no, please no,_" Simon begged silently.  "_Please do not let this be who I think it is.  He's the last person I want to see right now._"

"Grandson, I asked you a question and I expect an answer."

There, at the foot of his bed, several small, dusty gray clouds converged to take the larger form of his grandfather, the Colonel.

Simon raised his hand to his forehead in dismay.  "What are you doing here, Colonel?"

"What kind of a question is that?  I'm paying my grandson a visit.  What does it look like I'm doing?"

An impish grin made its way onto Simon's face.  "Honestly?  It looks like you're floating in outer space."  He failed to prevent himself from giggling a bit at the absurdity of the image.

"Oh, nonsense, Camden.  If we were in outer space right now you wouldn't be able to hear a word I was saying.  Sound waves require particles in order to travel, and there are none in outer space.  Don't they teach you kids anything in school anymore?"

Simon failed to gain control over his growing giggle fit.

"Boy, what's so damn funny?  Are you on drugs?"

Between giggles, Simon managed to blurt out, "Hee hee, I think, hee hee hee, I might be!"

"Well, dammit, son, there's nothing funny about that.  Here, come with me and we'll get you some water or coffee or something."

"No!"  The thought of leaving his bed and possibly getting sucked into outer space never to be seen or heard from again, as Morris had, was too frightening for Simon.

The Colonel sat down at the foot of Simon's bed and sighed.  "Fine.  I guess you can just stay here and rest until you come down again."  He shook his head back and forth and Simon already knew the words that were forthcoming, words he had heard recently from so many different people.  "I have to say, Simon, I'm more than a bit disappointed in you right now."

"I know.  Look, it wasn't my fault.  I don't know how this happened."

The Colonel glared at him.  "Isn't that the excuse you made when you got drunk that one time?  Your father told me all about that little episode."

"But…but this time it's the truth.  All I did was eat some brownies this morning.  They must have been laced or something."

"Oh, can it, Camden.  What does your mother keep in this house that she could possibly use to lace her brownies?"

Simon shook his head, realization gradually dawning on his face.  "No.  It wasn't Mom, it was Gabrielle who made the brownies.  And you!"  He pointed an accusatory finger at the Colonel.  "You're the one who sent her here!  This is your fault!  You did this to me!"

"Dammit, Camden, I'll listen to no more of this transferal crap of yours!  You're a sixteen-year old young man.  Isn't it about damn time you started taking responsibility for your mistakes?"

"Not when I'm not the one to blame, old man."

Fire lit behind the Colonel's eyes.  "What did you just say to me?"

Simon swallowed, worried that he had just crossed a line in space from which there would be no return.

The fire spread from the Colonel's eyes to his cheeks and then the rest of his face, causing him to glow a frightening orangey-red.  "YOU WILL RESPECT YOUR ELDERS!"  His voice boomed so loud that Simon's ears hurt, and the gust of air that escaped his lungs created a draft so intense it blew Simon over his headboard and into the surrounding void.

Simon began to panic as the gust carried him farther and farther away from his bed.  "_Great.  I'm going to die in outer space, all alone.  Well, at least it's fitting.    I'm in my element:  a nothing, dying out here in the middle of nothing._"

And then the earth rose from below and hit him, hard.


	10. Worse Landing

He lay on the ground for a while, smothered by the silent darkness, not sure if he should budge or not.  He remembered that you weren't supposed to move if you thought you might be injured, because you could damage the injury further.  Yet he felt no pain, so he thought maybe he was alright after all.

"Simon, are you okay?" an approaching, friendly voice asked.

Gingerly, Simon lifted his head to see who had asked the question.  His eyes lit up as soon as he recognized the incoming figure.

"Robbie!"

"Hey, buddy.  You looked like you took a pretty hard tumble there."

"I'll say."

Robbie knelt down by Simon's side and gently squeezed the boy's hand.  "Can you feel that?"

"Yeah."

"Can you move your fingers and toes, arms and legs?"

Simon wiggled his extremities with ease.  "Yeah."

"Any pain?"

"Nope.  No problem."

"Great.  Let's try to stand you up now."

"Actually," Simon muttered, gazing at the black sky behind Robbie, "I kind of like it down here.  It's peaceful."

"Oh yeah?  You won't think it's so peaceful if you get run over by a herd of stampeding Cecilias."

Simon chuckled.  "A herd of _what_?"

"Cecilias.  They're all over this place, and they're wild."

Simon launched uncontrollably into a fit of laughter.  Once he had recovered enough to speak, he said, "Robbie, what are you trying to pull?  You know Cecilia is the name of my girlfriend, right?"

Robbie looked askance at Simon.  "What do you mean, 'what am I trying to pull'?  Of course I know Cecilia is your girlfriend's name.  Gosh, did that fall knock all the sense out of you, Simon?  Don't you realize where you are right now?"

Simon shook his head.  "Robbie, I haven't known where I've been since about 11 o'clock this morning."

Robbie swallowed hard, his black eyes penetrating Simon with grave intensity.  "Simon, listen to me and listen good.  You're in her world now.  You're in the Land of a Million Cecilias."

Simon stared blankly at him for a moment before launching into a second fit of howling laughter.

But Robbie wasn't laughing.  In fact, panic spread across his face as the ground began to rumble and a faint squawking sound arose in the distance.

"They're coming."

"What?"

"The Cecilias.  They're headed this way.  We've got to get you up and out of here before they trample you."  Robbie grabbed Simon's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"This is insane," Simon protested mildly, although the rumbling ground was beginning to worry him.  He looked all around, seeing nothing but the black sky above and the dry dirt below.  "I don't see a herd of anything."

"Can't you hear it?" Robbie asked exasperatedly.  "There's no time to talk, Simon.  We need to run, now!"  He snatched Simon's wrist and pulled him away.  The two of them ran across the flat, dusty earth, randomly selecting from the infinite number of paths that led toward the omnipresent blackness.

Simon had no idea where they were running, and he didn't really have a full understanding of why they were running in the first place.  He knew he didn't want to get trampled, but then again, maybe he wouldn't if he just stood there.  Maybe the herd, if there even were a herd, would just go around him.

He halted, and Robbie nervously turned around to check on him.

"Simon, is something wrong?"

"Robbie, this is stupid.  Why are we running, again?"

"I told you, the Cecilias.  They'll trample you.  Come on, man!  If you're not hurt then we need to keep moving."

"No.  I'm not going anywhere."

Robbie shook his head at Simon.  "Fine.  It's your funeral."

He turned and ran into the distance, eventually disappearing on the black horizon.

"_Great.  First Morris, then Robbie.  Everyone deserts me in the end._"

***

In the distance, he began to make out a dust cloud.  At first he saw just the tip of the cloud, but then its edges began to expand, so that after a few moments it took the form of a wide, dusty arrow pointing straight at him.  And the arrow was approaching rather rapidly.

"_Maybe I should have listened to Robbie after all._"

The squawking noise grew louder too, and it began to sound very familiar to Simon.

"_Where have I heard that before?  It sounds like…_"

Simon's face became stone as reality set in.

"_Oh my God, Robbie was right.  I'm about to get trampled by a million squawking Cecilias!_"

He turned to run, but the dusty arrow seemed to be closing in on him from all directions now.  The Cecilias had trapped him.

***

The cloud drew closer still, until Simon could pick out individual figures behind the dust.  They all looked the same, long blond hair with flowing white shirts and low-riding, hip-hugging jeans.  As they drew even closer, Simon noticed the excessive makeup that each one wore.

He dropped to the ground, covered his head and cowered.  "_I never would have imagined that this is how I would go out._"

Then, suddenly, the rumbling and squawking began to quiet down around him.  The vibration and the noise seemed to move gradually into the distance, until he no longer felt or heard them at all.

"_Did they pass me?  Did I live?_"  He cautiously lifted his head and peeked out at his surroundings.

What he saw terrified him.

***

Thousands of them surrounded him, cocking their heads, swiveling their necks, bobbing their shoulders, and staring at him.

The silence was deafening.  But it didn't last long.

"Simon, where have you been?"  "Why didn't you call me last night?"  "You didn't help me on my homework like you said you would."  "Your sister was, like, a total bia to me the other day."  "I convinced my father to give you a job, so you had _better_ love me."

All of them opened their mouths at once to shout, nag, and browbeat him about one insipid thing or another.

"_My God.  This is even worse than the physical trampling I had been expecting._"

"I'm glad you have a dog because I think they're cute and all, but they also shed hair and they're smelly and I hate it when you come over to my house and you have dog hair on your clothes because that's like so gross and I mean, ugh, do I really want to kiss a boy who smells like dog?  Hello!  I don't think so."

"SHUT UP!"

The volume and force of emotion he put behind the two simple words startled even Simon himself.

The Cecilias jerked their heads backward in unison.  After a silent moment, some of the heads began bouncing on the shoulders, and then some of them began to speak again.

"How dare you speak to me like that?  I'm the one who defended you when my father thought you were stealing money on the job."  "I dumped my sexy French exchange student boyfriend for you and this is how you talk to me?"  "Simon, I changed my answering service message just for you.  That's how much you mean to me.  And you have the nerve to tell me to shut up?"

"Alright alright alright!" Simon raised a hand to silence the herd.  "I'm sorry I shouted.  Just tell me, what do you want from me?"

The Cecilias turned and looked around at each other, then nodded in silent agreement.  One of them stepped up to him and said, "We want sex with you.  Every last one of us.  And we don't want to talk to our parents about it first this time either."

Simon tried in vain to swallow the huge lump that rose in his throat.

"Um, look, I know I'm a teenage boy and supposedly at my sexual peak and everything, but I really don't think I could possibly, um, service every one of you."

The Cecilia who had stepped forward put on a pouty face and bobbled her head.  "But Simon, don't you love us?"

Simon was surprised to find that an answer did not easily provide itself to his lips.  Instead he traced back in his mind to Morris's question.  "If you could wish for one thing for yourself, what would it be?"  He still didn't know exactly what he would wish for, but standing before this sex-hungry Cecilia, he realized that it was not a relationship with her.

However, he also wasn't stupid enough to be honest when there were at least a thousand Cecilias surrounding him, ready to dismember him if the answer to their question was no.

"Of course I love you, Cecilia.  But I thought we had decided we weren't ready for sex yet."

"Oh, Simon.  You know we change our minds on that issue every day.  And today, we're horny.  So pleasure us!"

As a last-ditch effort, Simon whimpered, "But I don't have any condoms."

The Cecilia smiled.  "That won't be a problem.  They grow on trees around here, you see?"

A cluster of Cecilias parted to reveal a giant tree, which indeed appeared to have individually wrapped condoms dangling from its branches like fruit.

"Oh," Simon smiled an unenthusiastic, defeated smile.  "Great."


	11. Way Out

After the Cecilias had finished having their way with him, they moved on, careful not to trample him.

Exhausted, Simon lay alone on the ground where they had ravaged him.  He struggled to decide whether he had just starred in the greatest porno movie ever, or the scariest horror movie.  In the end, he decided it might have been a combination of both.

"Boy, what are you doing laying about again?" the Colonel's stern voice arose from the darkness to shout at him.

"If I told you," Simon panted, "you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

A number of small, dusty gray clouds converged to form the Colonel again.  It didn't surprise Simon to see him make the exact same magical appearance a second time.  The man was definitely set in his ways.

"I just had sex with my girlfriend, like, a thousand times in a row."

"You're right, I don't believe you."  The Colonel glared at him for a minute, but then softened a bit.  "What's the little filly's name?"

"Cecilia."

"Hmm.  Pretty.  But you realize you're too young to be getting mixed up in all that nonsense, don't you?"

"Yeah.  I tried to stop her, but there was just no saying no to her."

"Boy, there you go again, blaming someone else for your own actions.  I don't want to hear it.  Sex is a two-way street.  You're just as guilty as she is."

"_Why even bother trying to explain this one?_" Simon wondered silently.

He decided to change the subject.  "Hey Colonel, there's something that's been bothering me almost all day."

"What's that, Grandson?"

"Before he left me, Morris asked me a question.  He asked if I had one wish for myself, what would I wish for?"

"And, what did you tell him?"

"That's the thing.  I haven't been able to come up with an answer.  Colonel, I honestly don't know what I want out of my life."

The Colonel pulled a chair out of thin air, spun it backwards, sat down, rested his hands atop the chair's back, and faced Simon.  "Son, I can't say that I'm surprised.  See, you lack direction.  Always have.  Your father has been too weak to guide you down the path that you were so obviously destined to travel."

Simon furrowed his brow.  "And, what path might that be?"

"Why, the military, of course."

Simon's diaphragm contracted involuntarily, causing him to snort.  "Oh, please.  You're kidding, right?"

"No, sir.  You've got the smarts and the good health, and that's really all you need.  They'll condition you for the physical strength, and they'll teach you the mental toughness and discipline.  And boy, you could obviously use a good dose of discipline.  It's clearly been lacking from your father's house for several years, at least."

"Colonel, I don't think the military would be a good fit for me.  I mean, I have no desire whatsoever to fire a gun or drive a tank or do any of that stuff."

"Boy, is that all you think the military is about?  There's so much more to it than just that.  You can learn construction, or computer programming, or just about any field you want to learn.  And you can do it all while knowing that you're playing an integral part in protecting the freedom of this great nation.  And I ask you, Simon, what more could you want out of life than that?"

"I…don't know."

"So could you come up with a better answer to Morris's question than that?  Wouldn't it give your seemingly aimless, pointless life some direction and meaning?  Take your time.  Think about it."

Simon thought for a minute and said, "My father thinks he gets more out of life by spreading the word of God and the message of Christ."

"Does he really?  Then why hasn't he been back to the church in months?"

"Well, uh, he…" Simon stammered.

"He knows, Simon.  He knows he should have followed the path I laid down for him.  And now it's all coming back to bite him in the ass.  You just think about it, Simon.  Think about the military.  Think long and hard, because I really think you'd be a good fit."

Simon tried to picture himself in camouflage fatigues, leading men across a field, overseeing them as they lay down a bridge for a tank to cross a stream, and the tank crossed the stream just fine but then it hit a mine on the other side and it blew up and it was his fault because if he had read his coordinates right they were really supposed to lay the bridge down a fifth of a mile upstream and if he hadn't screwed up those soldiers in that tank would still be alive right now and unlike when he got drunk at the party or ate the spiked brownies people other than him got hurt and even killed this time and it had been his responsibility nobody else's but his.

Tears flooded his eyes and he whispered, "I'd screw it up.  I can't handle that kind of pressure.  I can't do it, Colonel.  I just can't."

The Colonel stood up from his chair and said, "Well, now I think you need to join the military more than I ever did before.  'Can't' this, 'can't' that.  They'll train that word 'can't' right out of your body."

Simon shook his head and said repeatedly, "No.  No."

The Colonel walked over to the boy and patted his head gently.  "OK, Simon.  There's time yet for you to change your mind.  Just promise me you'll keep thinking about it."

Simon said nothing.

After the awkward silence had passed, the Colonel piped up again.  "Well, I bet you'd like to get out of this god-forsaken desert and go back home, wouldn't you?"

Simon nodded eagerly, while also trying to inhale all the moisture in his nose and wipe away all the tears from his eyes.

"To get home, all you have to do is climb that," the Colonel said, pointing to the giant tree whose branches were now almost completely stripped of their condoms.

"That tree?  But Colonel, it's huge.  I can't…"

"Ah!  There's that word 'can't' again, Camden.  I don't want to hear it.  We're going to run this like a military drill, like the rope climb.  I'll be down here barking at you like a drill sergeant, and you'll climb that thing like nobody's business."

Simon still felt rather weary from his sexcapades with the Cecilias, but the promise of getting home again was incentive enough to prompt him to agree.  "Alright.  I'll try."

"That's the spirit, Private.  Now get over there and climb.  Go on!"

Simon ran to the tree and found foothold after foothold, making his way up the trunk inch by inch.  It proved to be a fairly difficult climb.  Halfway up he actually found himself wishing he had a few dozen Cecilias handy to make a human tower, the way they had done earlier to reach condoms on some of the upper branches.  But gradually, after a great deal of effort and an even greater deal of barking from the Colonel, Simon made it to the top branch of the tree.  "I did it!"

"Yes, you did, Grandson.  Yes, you did."

And then exhaustion passed over Simon like a cloud's shadow, and he lost his grip on the branch.

"_I don't believe it.  I'm going to die from falling out of a condom tree.  How many different bizarre ways can I brush death today?_"

But before Simon could drop all the way to the ground, his fall was broken by a rough, slanted surface.  And that, after his many adventures and tumbles and spills that day, was where he finally lost consciousness.


	12. Great Idea

As she sat in the kitchen drinking her milk, Lucy heard a commotion coming from upstairs.

"Don't play horsey with Happy.  She doesn't like it."  Giggles and decidedly unhappy barking followed, and then a door slammed.

"_Great.  Looks like I'll be playing babysitter this afternoon."_

As she ascended the stairs, Lucy began to get a light-headed, euphoric feeling that increased with each step she took.  By the time she had reached the second floor, she was feeling positively giddy.  That feeling vanished, however, when she observed the scene in the hallway.

"Hi, Lucy," Sam waved to her, as David rode Happy like a rodeo clown.  The heavy preschooler laughed uproariously as Happy tried to buck him from atop her back.

"David, please get off the dog right now," Lucy said, meaning to sound irritated but instead sounding quite pleasant.

"Whoa, horsey!" David shouted as he dismounted the furry white beast.  Freed of her burden, Happy ran up to the attic bedroom to hide.

Lucy knelt down to speak to David face-to-face.  "Now, David, you know we don't treat Happy like she's a horse.  She's old and not strong enough to support a big, heavy boy like you.  Think about it this way; would you like it if I sat on you?"

David's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head left and right spastically.  "Noooooo."

"OK, then promise me you won't ever sit on Happy again."

"I pwomise."

Lucy stood up, and the euphoric sensation returned.  "Ooh, head rush."

"What's a head wush?" asked Sam.

"It's when you feel dizzy from standing up too fast."

David smiled.  "I like to be dizzy.  It's fun.  I like to spin around and around."  In order to demonstrate his point, he began spinning with arms out for balance.

"What is with you today, kid-o?  Where did you get all this energy from?"  Lucy was beginning to resent the facts that her parents were too busy having sex and Simon was too busy having a stomachache to help her babysit the twins.  The only other person around to help her was Ruthie.  "Oh, Ruthie," she called out to her sister.

"What?" came a voice from upstairs.

"Come downstairs, please."

In a moment, Ruthie's footsteps plodded down the stairs.  "Hey, what's wrong with the dog?  She's hiding under my bed."

"Don't worry about Happy.  She'll be okay."  Seeing Ruthie standing there, and with the memory of David riding Happy fresh in her mind, a thought occurred to Lucy.  "Listen, I just had a great idea."

Ruthie rolled her eyes and said, "Uh oh."

"No, really, hear me out.  It's a beautiful day outside, right?"

"Duh, this is Southern California.  It's always a beautiful day outside."

"Well, I was thinking that maybe the four of us could go out to the ranch where you keep your horse and go for a horsey ride."

"Yeah!" shouted David triumphantly.

"Yeah," echoed Sam.

"No!" Ruthie countered.

"Why not?" Lucy pouted.

"Because, my horse is only big enough to fit one person."

"So, we'll just take turns."

"It's not just that, Lucy.  It takes lots of practice to ride.  You don't want the midgets to fall off and get hurt, do you?"

"We won't fall, Ruthie.  Pwease, pwease, pwease let us ride your horsey," David pulled on his sister's shirt as he begged her.

"Yeah, pwease," Sam echoed, as he began pulling on her shirt too.

"And why should I, you little brownie-stealing trolls?"  
David made giant doe eyes.  "Because, we looooooove you."

"Yeah, you're byoooooteeeful," Sam added.

"But I'm not even sure the stable will let me.  You guys aren't registered there."

"So take us as your guests," Lucy suggested.

Ruthie sighed.  "Fine.  But if I get in trouble for this, then I promise I will make all of your lives a living hell for the rest of my days in this house."

***

Before they left, Lucy packed a delicious picnic lunch for the four of them to enjoy, complete with bread, an assortment of lunchmeats, cheese, sliced tomatoes, and various condiments for making sandwiches.  She also grabbed some pre-packaged Drumstick brand ice cream cones and designer sodas that just happened to be in the refrigerator, as well as a box of Brenda's Cookies for snacking.

By the time she had loaded the cooler into the back of the electric van, Lucy was positively jazzed.  "This is going to be so much fun!"

"Yeah, real fun," Ruthie moped.

"Oh come on, Ruthie.  When was the last time we had a picnic lunch together as a family?"

"Um, never."

"Right!  So aren't you excited?"

"If it will shut you up and get you behind the wheel, then sure.  What the heck?  I'm excited," she said with no trace of enthusiasm whatsoever.

Lucy grinned and, unable to prevent any excess glee from overflowing, clapped her hands a few times.  She made sure everybody got in the van and strapped themselves in, and then she sped away.

***

Lucy felt positively giddy during the entire drive out to the ranch.  Every song that aired on the Contemporary Christian station the foursome was listening to in the van sounded better than the one before it – even the ones Lucy had never liked before!  Despite her ecstatic mood, however, she made sure to focus on the road and pay careful attention to Ruthie's verbal directions.  The proper way to enjoy the beautiful drive was, of course, to do it safely.

***

When the four young Camdens reached the _Glenoak Acres Ranch and Paddock_, Ruthie hopped out and said, "Wait here.  I'll go sign us all in."

Lucy gleefully nodded, then helped Sam and David unbuckle their seatbelts and step out of the van.  Ruthie returned shortly with a man in a cowboy hat and tan leather jacket.

"Hi.  My name's Rex Kennedy, and I own this ranch.  Ruthie says you four want to go for a ride today."

"We sure do," Lucy beamed.

"You gotta sign these disclaimers first.  They state that you won't hold us liable for any injuries you might incur while you're riding.  You know, pretty standard stuff to make the lawyers happy."

He handed Lucy a pen and she signed the papers.

"Well, now.  I've got a few ponies that take pretty kindly to strangers like yourselves.  I could loan them to you for the afternoon for, oh, I don't know.  Fifty dollars apiece?  A hundred fifty total?"

"A hundred fifty dollars!  I don't have that kind of money!" Lucy shrieked.

Ruthie smirked.

"Now, hold on a minute, don't get your britches in a twist. I'd be willing to come down to a hundred dollars total.  That's just over thirty-three bucks per pony.  Pretty fair, wouldn't you say?"

"I have no idea how fair it is, but I still can't afford it."

"Hmm."  Rex frowned and stroked the ends of his mustache.  "I tell you what.  Those two are little ones," he nodded toward Sam and David.  "I figure one of them could sit on Sir Trots-a-Lot with Ruthie, and the other could share a pony with you.  Now, Ruthie's a Riding Club member and her dues are all paid up, so you'd only have to pay for one other pony.  Fifty dollars for the afternoon.  My final offer."

Lucy sighed.  "That's still a lot of money.  What happened to thirty-three dollars per pony?"

"That was back when we were still talking three ponies.  Now we're talking one."

This guy was trying to ruin Lucy's perfect day.  At a loss for words, she stomped her foot and pouted her lips.

Ruthie's smirk broke into a smile.

Rex scratched the back of his neck.  "Young lady, do you realize how expensive it is to raise horses?"

Lucy shrugged.  "Not really, no."

"Well it ain't cheap.  And with the way this economy has been, I've had riders canceling left and right, and I'm losing money out the ying-yang.  I'll probably still lose money on the afternoon even with your fifty bucks.  Now are you going to take my offer, or are you going to leave it?"

Ruthie's smile grew ever more smug, because she knew the answer.  "There's no way she'll take it.  She and her boyfriend Kevin are going on a date tonight, and Kevin always makes her go dutch because he's such a cheapskate.  So she can't afford to pay you."

Lucy glared at Ruthie.  "Oh yeah?"  She pulled out her wallet and, with much effort, rounded up a twenty, a ten, three fives, three ones, six quarters, and some other random change.  "There.  Fifty dollars.  Shows what you know."  She stuck her tongue out at Ruthie before handing the money to Rex, who momentarily looked at it in disbelief before re-counting it.

Ruthie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.  First her stupid little brothers had stolen her brownies, and now they were getting a free ride at _her_ ranch.  Life wasn't fair.

As Ruthie stood and pondered the inequities of the universe, Sam and David picked their noses and, unnoticed by anyone, wiped their findings on the hem of her shirt.

***

After Ruthie had briefly trained Lucy in the riding circle regarding the basics of making Tony the Pony go and stop, the foursome was ready to ride into the woods for their grand picnic.  Lucy still felt a bit upset about having spent fifty dollars to do something she thought should be free, and she wished Ruthie would lose the attitude, but she wasn't going to let those minor roadblocks ruin such a wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous and lovely day.

"Wook at the pwetty bird," Sam said as he pointed to a cardinal in an evergreen.

"I see it!" chirped Lucy.  "But remember what Ruthie said when we mounted Tony the Pony.  Don't let go of his mane, or you might lose your balance and fall off."

"OK," Sam said as he took a firm grip of the pony's stringy hair.  The animal whinnied in response, and Sam let out a high-pitched giggle at the noise.  Perhaps set off by the child's shrill laughter, Tony the Pony became startled and broke into a trot.

"Um, Ruthie?  What do I do to slow this thing down?" asked Lucy, her voice disrupted by each bounce.

"Pull back on the reins, dummy!"

Lucy did, but instead of slowing, Tony sped to a gallop.

"Eek!  Ruthie, make this thing stop!" Lucy pleadingly shouted.

"Whee!  This is fun!" Sam shouted.

Lucy tried to adjust herself more securely onto Tony's back, but it was too late.  She saw the ground careening up toward her, and then the sky twisting above her, and then the ground again, closer this time.  Then, a mere instant later, the ground pummeled her repeatedly until her unconscious body rolled to rest amongst some overgrown weeds.


	13. Strange Place

Lucy awoke from her slumber, not knowing how long she had been unconscious.  Her head pounded as she lifted it to check her watch, trying to get some idea of the time.  Unfortunately, the watch was broken.

With great difficulty, she tried to remember where she was and how she had ended up on the ground.  No ideas came to her right away.  All she could tell from looking around was that she was in the middle of a parking lot, and it was a warm, humid afternoon.

She pushed herself up into a standing position and brushed her dirty clothes off.  Looking around, she noticed that the parking lot was bordered on one side by a busy-looking expressway, and on the other side by a seedy-looking, neon-lit building.  Other than that, there wasn't much around other than some palm trees and a few other nondescript buildings.

"_Where the heck am I?  This doesn't look like Glenoak_."

Lucy heard some muffled musical sounds coming from the seedy-looking building, and she figured she might as well check it out.  Maybe someone inside could help her to find her way back home.

She entered the black doors and found herself in a deep purple-colored entryway.  A blond stood behind a counter staring at Lucy cynically.  "May I help you?"

Lucy looked around and tried to figure out where she was.  She saw an opening into a large back room, from which she could hear loud, bass-heavy music pumping.  From the sounds of ice clinking around in glasses, it also sounded as if drinks were being served.

"Ahem, ma'am!  May I help you?"

Lucy snapped her focus back onto the girl behind the counter.  "I'm sorry.  I'm kind of lost right now.  Could you tell me where I am?"

The girl smirked and chuckled sarcastically.  "You're at a gentleman's club."

"A what?"

"An exotic dancing emporium."

Lucy looked at her blankly.

"Hon, you're at a strip bar."

"Oh!"  Lucy covered her mouth in embarrassment.  "I'm so sorry!  I shouldn't be here."

"Whatever," the blond said disinterestedly as she picked up a gossip magazine.

As Lucy turned to exit the club, she bumped into someone coming in.

"Oh, pardon me…Luce?"

Lucy apologetically looked up at the person with whom she had just collided.

"Sorry, it was my fault…_Mary_?  What are you doing here?"

Mary put a hand on her hip.  "I'm working.  And I think a better question is, what on earth are _you_ doing here?"

"I walked in here by accident…wait a minute, you work _here_?  I thought you worked for JetBlue."

"Not anymore."

"And when you say you 'work' here, you don't mean you 'strip' here, do you?"

Rolling her eyes, Mary answered, "Yeah.  Look, you're not going to tell Mom and Dad, are you?"

"Mary!  Why on earth would you 'work' in a place like this?"

"Oh, please don't start, Luce.  Listen, the money's great, and it's not so bad.  It's safe, and once you get used to it, it's actually kind of fun."

Lucy shook her head back and forth.  "I can't believe this.  I always defended you, you know."

"What are you talking about?"

"Whenever Ruthie or Mom made a comment about you always making bad decisions, I used to stick up for you.  But not anymore.  I can't believe you would do something this disgusting for a living!"

"What's so bad about it, Luce?  Men pay me a lot of money just to watch me take my clothes off.  They never touch me, and it's all legal, so what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is that it's a sin!  Men are coveting you!  You're selling your flesh!"

Mary sighed.  "I'm not selling my flesh.  I told you, the men aren't allowed to touch me.  They just look.  Now will you please step off your moral high horse for a minute and give me a hug?  After all, you're my little sister, and I haven't seen you in months!"

"Oh, gosh, I'm sorry.  Where are my manners…OW!"  Lucy cried out in pain as Mary embraced her.

"Luce, what's wrong?  Are you feeling okay?" Mary asked with concern.

Lucy rubbed her temple gingerly.  "I'm not sure.  I just woke up a few minutes ago in the parking lot, and I have no idea how I got here.  Something must have knocked me out and wiped out my memory."

"Geez, that sounds pretty serious.  Maybe we should get you to a hospital."

"No!  Not if you're Mary's sister," the blond behind the counter spoke up suddenly.

"Excuse me, Sheba, but I really don't think this is any of your business," Mary commented with irritation.

"I'm telling you, she doesn't need a hospital."

"Well how would you know?"

Sheba shrugged.  "She just needs to dance.  Then she'll be okay."

Mary looked at her incredulously.  It wasn't often that she found herself on the delivering end of a sentence questioning someone's mental capacity, but on this occasion it seemed necessary.  "Um, pardon my rudeness, Sheba, but that is by far the stupidest thing I have ever heard.  First of all, dancing is not going to cure what might be a concussion.  And second of all, my sister is only twenty years old.  She's not even supposed to be allowed to enter a place like this, let alone work in one."

"I know, it sounds crazy; but trust me.  If your sister goes in there and shakes what her mama gave her, she'll feel just fine."

"OK, what is wrong with you.  Have you been eating mushrooms or something…"  
"Wait, Mary," Lucy interjected.

"No, this is really pissing me off, Luce.  You might have a serious medical condition, and she's over here telling you to dance when, instead, she should be calling an ambulance.  Hint hint!" she said while glaring at Sheba.

Lucy looked from Mary to Sheba and asked, "Why do you think I should dance?"

"Because, look at you!  You're wound tighter than a jack-in-the-box, always worrying about your cop fiancé running off with his partner.  Why can't you just accept that he loves you and doesn't want anything to do with her?"

"Because she's a temptress and she's always trying to seduce him…hey, wait a minute.  Do I even know you?  How do you know all this stuff about me?"  Lucy turned to her sister and slapped her arm angrily.  "Mary, do you go around blabbing _everything_ I tell you in confidence to strangers?"

Mary blushed.  "Whoops.  Sorry about that.  But I still don't understand how dancing is going to help Lucy's concussion."

Sheba smiled.  "It's not a concussion.  It's a stress-induced migraine, possibly from worrying about that double-date she and Kevin have with Roxanne and Chandler tonight."

"Okay, what are you, a psychic medical doctor who can make diagnoses from across the room?" Mary snarked.

"And speaking of psychic, how did you know I have a double-date tonight?  I never even told Mary about that."

Mary turned to Lucy with surprise.  "Wait a minute, you really are going on a double-date tonight?"

Lucy nodded.

"With the exact people she mentioned?"

"Yes."

A freaked-out expression passed over Mary's face.  "Oh, man, this is too weird."

Sheba walked out from behind the counter and placed her hands on Lucy's shoulders.  As she did, Lucy felt a warming sensation come over her.  She wasn't sure why, but suddenly she knew that Sheba was right.  Lucy needed to dance.

"Get away from my sister, you hallucinating freak!" Mary bellowed as she balled up her fists and jumped into fighting position.

Sheba removed her hands from Lucy's shoulders and placed them on Mary's.  "Ah, Mary," she sighed.  "If only you understood the full irony of that statement.  Please just be calm, and trust me."

Mary relaxed and dropped her fists.  She looked at her sister, and then turned back to Sheba.  "Fine.  I'm not sure why I'm going along with this, but I'll let her dance.  But if she feels weak out there, or if she feels even a little bit of a headache after she's done, then we're taking her to the hospital right away.  No arguments!"

Sheba smiled.  "That's fine, Mary.  Now, Lucy, let's get you into costume."

***

A/N:  This chapter contains a crossover with my other fic, "When She Dances", in which Mary takes a job as a stripper in Fort Lauderdale.  You might want to read that story to get further background for this chapter.


	14. She Dances

By the time she was ready to take the stage, Lucy felt a nervous sensation in her stomach.  She turned to Sheba and anxiously asked, "Why am I doing this again?"

"So many reasons, child," Sheba answered vaguely.  "So many reasons."

"Could you maybe give me an example of one before I expose myself to a roomful of creepy strange men?" Lucy asked.

"Certainly," Sheba answered as she placed her warming hand upon Lucy's shoulder.  "You have a pathetic sense of self-worth, and you've never thought you were beautiful.  Dancing out there might help you to understand how truly desirable you are, and to realize that you don't need to worry about your fiancé's partner seducing him away from you just because she's attractive.  And if you stop worrying about losing Kevin, then you might just cure your stress-induced headache."

Lucy shook her head in disbelief.  "Wow.  How do you know all this stuff about me?"

Sheba smiled and winked enigmatically, but said nothing.

Lucy closed her eyes and inhaled.  "Alright.  Here goes nothing, I guess."

The music started and Lucy heard her name over the loudspeakers.  "Gentlemen, give a warm welcome to our newest dancer, Luscious Lucy!"

A spotlight hit her square in the eyes, and she could no longer see where she was stepping.  She could feel Sheba's warm, caring hands on her shoulders, guiding her to her spot on the stage, but that was the only thing she could sense anymore.  The lights had blinded her and the music had deafened her.

After what felt like an eternity but was actually only a few seconds, her senses began to return.  Slowly but surely, she discerned figures amidst the blinding white light.  Only they weren't the figures she had been expecting to see.  Instead of a bunch of sleazy men seated in a smoky bar at dirty tables drinking watered-down cocktails, she saw the edges of a bright blue sky, white birds flying, and green leaves on trees blowing in the wind.  Instead of hearing loud strip club music, she heard children playing, birds chirping, and leaves rustling.

She felt her feet touch ground gently and came to the inexplicable conclusion that she had just been floating.  The white haze lifted much more visibly now, and Lucy saw that she now stood in a quiet residential neighborhood upon the lawn of a modest but pleasant white two-story house.  Turning around to face Sheba, she asked, "Where am I now?  And how did I get here?"

Sheba was mildly surprised.  "You should know this place.  You've been here before."

Lucy furrowed her brow.  "What are you talking about?"

"Take a good look at that house.  Does it look familiar?"

Lucy turned around and looked at the house again.  At first glance it looked just like any other nondescript house, but the longer she scanned it, the more she felt a strange sense of déjà vu.  The side panels, the roof shingles…

Then she realized.  She had built portions of this house with her own hands.  It was the one she had worked on with Habitat for Humanity so many years ago.

Too stunned for words, she turned around to face Sheba.  After several seconds of trying to find her voice, she stammered, "H-how did you know?"

Sheba smiled tenderly.  "Lucy, you should really stop worrying about how I know all these things and instead think about what they mean to you.  For example, what does it mean to you that a low-income family was able to move into this house and comfortably raise their three children?  What does it mean to you that they've been able to live here peacefully and quietly and safely for several years, and that their oldest is about to go away to college on scholarship?"

Lucy tried to think for a minute.  "I-I don't know.  It makes me feel good, I guess."

Sheba looked disappointed.  "Just good?  That's it?"

"I don't know," Lucy shrugged.  "You haven't given me a lot of time to think about it."

Irritated, Sheba said, "But, Lucy, you shouldn't really have to think about this, should you?  I mean, aren't you training to be a minister?  And as a minister, shouldn't you be overjoyed that you played a role in helping a family that might have gotten stuck in a tough neighborhood – one that could have pushed its children into all kinds of immoral activities – to move to this much safer place?  
"'Overjoyed'?  Well, yeah, you're right, I guess.  Sorry, it's just that I'm really confused about what's going on here…"

Sheba, calm for the most part up to this point, finally lost her temper.  "Oh for crying out loud, Lucy.  It really is all about you, isn't it?  'Why doesn't Kevin propose to me?  Why does he want to spend time with his partner?  Why won't Sheba tell me what we're doing looking at this house that I built with my own hands?'  You want to know why I won't tell you?  I won't tell you because it should be obvious, Lucy!"

Lucy began to sweat nervously.  Softly, she asked, "Why are you yelling at me?"

"Me me me!  Why are you yelling at me me me!  For Christ's sake, stop thinking about yourself for two seconds and observe.  Take in your surroundings.  Figure out why I brought you here.  Can you do that?"

But Lucy's head was spinning too fast, her headache pounding harder than ever.  "Look, I'm sorry if I can't figure out your cryptic riddles, and if I can't figure out why we're here or how we got here, and I'm sorry that it bothers me that I don't know, but it does, okay?  I wish you would just tell me already."

Sheba grabbed her forcefully by the wrist.  "That's it.  I tried to do this the nice way, but obviously it's not working.  You're making this too difficult.  We're out of here."

"Ouch!  Where are you taking me now?"

"You'll see.  And maybe this time you'll be able to pull your head out of your ass and figure out the point I'm trying to make."

Lucy was about to respond defensively, but she once again became enshrouded in a blinding white light.  She again felt the sensation that her feet were being lifted from the ground beneath her, and the only other thing she could feel was Sheba's firm grip around her wrist.

"You don't have to hold my wrist so tightly," Lucy grumbled.

"Oh, but I wouldn't want your little precious self to fall, now would I?" Sheba asked sarcastically.

"Fall?"  Lucy looked down but couldn't see anything through the blinding whiteness.  Moments later, she felt solid ground under her feet and the white haze again began to lift.  "Okay, what is going on here…EEK!"

She and Sheba barely had time to jump out of the way as a garbage truck plowed toward them at high speed.  Barely missing them, the driver made a rude gesture and, with a thick ethnic accent, yelled, "Watch where the fuck you're walking!"

"How rude," Lucy muttered, picking herself up off the dirty street.

"Yeah, well, we're not in Glenoak anymore, Toto.  Deal," Sheba joked as she again grabbed Lucy's wrist and pulled her down the street.

"Where are we, then?"

"Why don't you take a look at this car and tell me?"  Sheba had pulled Lucy up to a parked black Camaro.

"That's Matt's car!" Lucy gasped.  "So we must be in…New York City?  But how did we get here so fast?  We were just in Glenoak a couple minutes ago."

"Yeah, and we were in Fort Lauderdale a few minutes before that.  Get over it already."

Lucy scowled.  "I am tired of you telling me to get over this.  I think I have every right to question you about what's going on here…"

Sheba interrupted her in order to change the subject:  "Uh-huh, sure you do.  Listen, do you remember when you worked on this car that one time?"

Lucy sighed and begrudgingly answered, "Yeah.  It was really hard work, and dirty too."

"I'm sure it was, but try not to focus on that.  Instead, try to think of how it made you feel when you were finished and the car started up again properly.  Remember when you and your sister test-drove it around the block?  Do you recall how you felt then?"

"I don't know.  Pretty good, I guess," Lucy answered noncommittally.

"Well, weren't you proud?  I mean, you had fixed Matt's mode of transportation, enabling him to drive to and from college whenever he needed to.  That was quite an accomplishment, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah, some great accomplishment," Lucy said sarcastically.  "I fixed Matt's laundry-mobile."

"Yeah, you did, and now it's lasted him all the way across the country.  I mean, look.  Here it is, parked in New York City!"

Lucy rolled her eyes.  "Sure, after zillions more oil changes and tune-ups at the Jiffy Lube that I had nothing to do with."

"But…but," Sheba began grasping at straws, "if not for that key tune-up that you performed, the car might have never made it to the next oil change."  She nodded, satisfied with herself.

"Oh give it a rest," Lucy moaned.  "Look, so I worked on a house once, and so I worked on a car once.  That was ancient history.  How does that have anything to do with my life now?"

"That's what I'm trying to show you, Luce.  Don't you get it?  You had special talents, which you enjoyed using.  You used them for good, to help people.  Those kinds of things used to mean everything to you.  And your talents; they made you more of a well-rounded person and they made you feel good about yourself.  But now you've let them go to waste, and it seems to mean nothing to you.  And that, my friend, is a crying shame."

"No, it's not," Lucy disagreed calmly.  "Kevin is my life now.  The only thing that would be a crying shame would be for me to lose him."

"No, it wouldn't!" Sheba disagreed vehemently.  "Losing yourself to Kevin is a much greater tragedy than you losing him would ever be."

"Shut up.  You may know lots of things, but you don't know him and the way I love him."

"You're wrong; I do.  I know that you only love him because you're scared no one else will ever love you.  And I know that that's the exact wrong reason to hitch yourself to a guy.  You need to believe in yourself, Lucy.  I mean, look at the way he treats you.  He knows the deal, that you'll do anything to keep him, and that's exactly where he wants you.  Can't you see it, Lucy?  Can't you tell how he gets off on that feeling of power and control?"

Lucy glared at Sheba and hissed, "Shut up!  Kevin loves me.  He loves me just like I love him."

"Puh-leeze.  Wake up and smell the real world, china doll," Sheba said condescendingly.

Trying not to lose her temper, Lucy diverted her eyes downward and noticed a piece of garbage that had stuck to her sleeve, probably during her tumble earlier.  As she picked it off, she caught a whiff of a horrible odor from a nearby sewer.  Sheba's last patronizing statement replayed in her mind, and her anger finally erupted.

"Okay, that is it.  I am tired of whatever game you're playing with my head.  First I walk into your little strip club and you act like you couldn't care less about me.  Then you find out I'm Mary's sister and you act all nice and sweet and start talking all kinds of bizarre psychic crapola.  And then you take me on this completely freakazoid trip and start acting like a total – oh, forgive me for this, Lord – bitch!"

Sheba smiled tauntingly.  "What kind of way is that for a future minister to speak to a potential member of her flock?"

"Oh please!  You'll never go to church and you know it!  You work in a place where women take their clothes off for money, and you also behave in an extremely cruel and non-Christian way."

"See, that's where you're wrong.  I've gone to church every Sunday for the past fifteen years, and it was very Christian of me to take you on this trip."

Lucy sniffed in disagreement.

"Don't give me that attitude!  Listen, twit.  I'm missing work to take you around and show you these things, trying to remind you of the strong person you used to be, but there's not a grateful bone in your body, is there?"  Sheba changed her voice to a nasally whine in order to mock Lucy:  "'I don't want to be here.  What's going on, where are you taking me?  You're acting like a bitch.'"  She turned the high-pitched whine off and continued, toughly, "You think I'm a bitch?  Well I'll tell you who's the bitch, sweetheart.  I'm looking at her."

"That is IT!  I have HAD IT with you!"  Lucy lunged at Sheba with her hands bent like claws.

"Oh no you don't," Sheba countered, ready for battle.  As Lucy raced ahead, Sheba grabbed her arm and swung her around, using her momentum to send her hurtling toward Matt's Camaro.  Lucy smashed into the rear bumper and grunted in pain.

Undaunted, she turned to face her opponent once again.  "Ayeeeee!" she shrieked as she took another lunge at Sheba, aiming lower this time.  Sheba tried to stop her by grabbing her hair, but it didn't quite work.  Lucy plowed into her full-force, knocking her to the ground.  She raised her arm up and then brought it back down, slapping Sheba hard across the cheek.

Sheba then reached up, grabbed a handful of Lucy's hair, and pulled as hard as she could.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!"

"Lucy, this is ridiculous.  Let's call a truce before we hurt each other."

"Fine, fine.  Now please, let go of my hair."

Sheba obliged, but then Lucy immediately went back to slapping her.

"Certainly not a woman of your word, are you?" Sheba snapped as she attempted to restrain Lucy's flailing arms.  In the process, she accidentally ripped off the sleeve of Lucy's dancing costume.  "Shit!  I guarantee you that's coming out of my paycheck.  I hope you're happy!"

"Overjoyed!" Lucy shouted mockingly, in turn ripping at Sheba's gauzy blouse.

"You fucking dyke!  That was Prada.  You're dead, slut!"

Sheba rammed a fist directly into Lucy's face, hard.  Stunned, the girl wobbled backwards off of Sheba's body and fell to the ground, unconscious.

"Damn," Sheba muttered with a sad glance at Lucy's limp body.  "I really wish she would have listened to me."

***

A/N:  The homosexual slur at the end of this chapter does not reflect my opinion, but rather the angered state of the character at the time.  Thanks to Cypher for beta-ing portions of this chapter.


	15. Suspicious Scene

As soon as Kevin Kinkirk pulled into the Camden driveway, he realized it would not be an ordinary Saturday afternoon.  It was a shame, really.  After a long day's exhausting work patrolling the bustling Glenoak Promenade, he had been looking forward to a nap and then a relaxing double date with his girlfriend, Lucy.  Alas, the moment he saw Simon Camden's unconscious body lying on the Camden rooftop, he realized that his quiet, relaxing Saturday plans were in serious jeopardy.

Instinctively, he picked up his transmitter and radioed for emergency assistance.  First they would need to get Simon off the roof, and then, from the looks of things, he might require some medical treatment.  Dammit.  This was not what Kevin had planned for his Saturday afternoon.

Irritated, he stepped out of his vehicle and into the house.  "Hello!  Is anybody home?"  No one answered.  "Great," he muttered.

He climbed the stairs all the way up to Lucy and Ruthie's room in the attic, trying to figure out if there were a way he might gain access to the roof to help Simon.  Alas, none presented itself.  The windows all opened out above ground rather than rooftop, and all tree limbs were much too far away to even think about grabbing one and climbing up.  "_How did that stupid kid get up there?_" Kevin pondered.

The sound of sirens below snapped him out of his thoughts.  He raced downstairs to find a few EMT's and firemen, one of whom was his younger brother Ben.  "Kevin!  I came as soon as I heard the call," Ben shouted.

"Thanks, bro.  I have no idea how the little shit – er, I mean, Simon got up there."

"There's no ladder sitting around the yard or anything like that?"

"I haven't really searched the grounds yet, but I don't think so."

"Well, don't worry.  We'll run the fire ladder up there and pull him down in a matter of minutes."

"Sounds good.  I'm going to look around while you're doing that to see if I can figure anything out.  If you need me, just yell."

"Will do."

Kevin then made a cursory pass around the house but, as expected, didn't find any ladder or other such climbing implement.  He did, however, note that Simon's bedroom window was open, and that there was a tree next to it.  Even so, the tree looked as if only clawed animals would be able to climb it.  It was straight and very tall.  On the other hand, if someone wrapped his arms and legs around it tightly and somehow managed to wiggle his way up, he might be able to jump over to the roof…but nah.  Simon wouldn't have had the balls to do something like that.  Kevin had always figured the kid to be kind of a poof, even though he had a girlfriend.

He re-entered the house through the back door, stepping into the kitchen.  There, he noticed four different colored baking pans sitting on the counter and some unfinished milk Chugs on the table.  He walked over to the pans and noticed brown crumbs in each one.  Lowering his face into one of the pans, he inhaled deeply and smiled to himself.  "Brownies."

Satisfied with his sweep of the kitchen, he went upstairs to inspect Simon's room.  He noticed that the door was closed, so he opened it to reveal a room in a complete state of turmoil.  Simon's closet door was wide open with junk spilling out, including his guitar, which was half in and half out of its open case.  His bed was moved halfway across the floor from its usual position, and the sheets and blankets sat in a mussed pile atop the crooked mattress.  "_Geez, what the hell happened here?_"

Curiously, Kevin walked over to the open window and looked down.  The ground was pretty far down, but not _that_ far.  Perhaps someone could survive a soft landing…  Then he looked over to the tree again.  It still didn't look very climbable, but…  A strange potential sequence of events was beginning to occur to Kevin.  It didn't make much sense, but neither did anything else he had seen thus far.

With the ideas fresh in his head, he raced downstairs and collected the brownie pans.  Then he dashed outside to find his brother on the truck, helping to position the ladder.  "How are you guys doing?" Kevin asked.

"We'll have him down in about five minutes," Ben answered.

"Great.  Listen, once you've got him stabilized, I want him tested for substances."

"What?" Ben asked with surprise in his voice.  "You think Simon…"

Kevin nodded gravely.  "I think he might have been drugged."

"Wow.  Who would do such a thing?"

Squinting, Kevin answered, "I don't know, but I've got an idea.  Listen, take good care of Simon.  I'm going to run these over to the station for testing," he said as he pointed to the baking pans he was holding.

Ben looked at the pans questioningly, but just shrugged and said, "Okay."

Heading back to his police car, Kevin sighed heavily.  This was not the ordinary Saturday afternoon he had planned.  It was a shame, really.


	16. Rescue SomethingOneOne

It had been a very strange and confusing afternoon thus far for Ben Kinkirk.  For starters, this had been one of those weeks when he had chosen to occupy his dilapidated but inexpensive Glenoak apartment.  It always felt strange and off-putting staying in Glenoak.  People acted so much differently here than the way they did in Buffalo.  However, he had felt forced to come here, because his Mom had gone on a four-day pills-and-booze binge back in Buffalo.  Rather, it had lasted for four days by the time he left; but Ben had no idea how many days it would have lasted by now.  Actually, it would have been nine days by now, since he had left on Monday.  But on a Saturday afternoon during which Simon Camden lay passed out on a rooftop, even a small number such as nine was simply too much for Ben to calculate.

In any case, staying in Glenoak always made him feel somewhat off his usual game.  It wasn't his first home, and although his brother was dating a Camden and living above her family's garage, Ben didn't really feel a direct connection with the Camdens or their hometown.  Thus it didn't feel like there was a good reason for him to be here.  After all, Mary Camden had dumped him unceremoniously when he had proposed to her in front of the airport bathrooms earlier that year.  How humiliating.  Not to mention, she wasn't even staying in town anymore, having fled to Florida with a man twice her age.  However, it was better to feel like a dateless, purposeless, out-of-place loser in a strange town than to be around Ma Kinkirk and her Buffalo boozing.  Hell, it would be better to wrestle a polar bear in the middle of an Arctic blizzard than to be around that.

Nonetheless, Ben did his best to ignore his dysphoria as he helped to position the ladder for his buddy, Rusty, to climb up and rescue Simon.  Nor did he pay any attention to another call that came over a nearby EMT's radio, this time asking for an ambulance to be sent to the _Glenoak Acres Ranch and Paddock_.  Female, early twenties, fell off a horse and was knocked unconscious with a possible concussion.  The EMT who possessed the radio notified home base that she was unavailable to answer the call, as she was about to treat a teen who had been found unconscious atop a roof.  Ben, who was simply too focused on securing the ladder for Rusty to climb, barely registered this entire radio conversation.

After Rusty had successfully carried Simon back down the ladder, the EMT moved in to treat him.  "Well, he's breathing.  He's got a pulse.  Looks like he's got a dislocated shoulder."

"Ew," Ben cringed as the EMT snapped the shoulder back into its socket.

"We'll probably have to stabilize this arm.  Other than that I don't see any major contusions or lacerations.  I'm not sure why he's unconscious, really."

Ben absent-mindedly offered, "My brother, the police officer who was here earlier, suspects that he might have been drugged."

Without a pause, the EMT asked, "Did he say what kind of drug?"

"No."

"Okay.  Let's load him into the ambulance and get him to the hospital for an x-ray to make sure he doesn't have any broken bones.  While we're rolling I'll draw some blood and test it right away.  The sooner we know what's affecting him, the sooner we can treat him properly."

"Right."  Ben then informed Rusty that he was going to ride with Simon to the hospital, and he helped the EMT load Simon onto a gurney and into the ambulance.

Noticing that the EMT was a shapely, attractive female about his age, Ben turned on the charm.  "Name's Ben Kinkirk," he said with a toothy smile.

"Ben, we'll exchange pleasantries later.  Right now I want you to grab me a syringe and a test kit from that cabinet over there."

"Gotcha."  As Ben moved toward the cabinet, the ambulance driver lurched the vehicle ahead, causing Ben to fall gracelessly to the floor.  "I'm okay!" he shouted as he frantically jerked himself back into a standing position.

"Great, now get me that syringe already!" the EMT barked.

Ben hurried to the cabinet, finding a syringe and passing it to her.  He watched with fascination as she opened the sterile package, tapped all the air from the syringe, found a vein on Simon's arm, and drew some of his blood.  He also noticed and admired the extra care she took not to let the syringe budge while the vehicle was moving, even during the bumpy stretches.  "You have very steady hands," he commented as suavely as possible.

"It comes with experience.  Now why haven't you brought me one of those test kits yet?" she snapped.

"Sorry."  Ben scrambled back to the cabinet.  "What am I looking for, exactly?"

"One of those round packages on the second shelf from the bottom.  Come on, we don't have all day!"

"Alright, alright!  Here," Ben handed her a test kit.

She unwrapped the packaging around the kit and injected the blood into a tube.  Then she spun the tube around a few times inside the kit and said, "In a minute, this thing will tell us what he's floating on."  She turned it around and showed Ben, "If a line appears here, it's speed.  Here, it's grass.  This one means cocaine, this one downers and barbiturates, and this last one detects random hallucinogens.  One line will appear for each intoxicant present, and the more a substance is present, the darker the line will be."

"Wow.  Pretty sophisticated test for such a cheap-looking kit," Ben mused.

"Yes it is.  Alright, I think we're starting to get some results here.  Wait a minute.  What the…" the EMT trailed off, looking at the test kit with bewilderment.  "This can't be right!"

"What is it?" Ben asked.

The EMT spun the kit around to show Ben the results, and he immediately saw the reason for her disbelief:  all five lines had appeared distinctly.

It was a very strange and confusing afternoon indeed, and becoming more so by the minute.

***

The strangeness didn't stop there.  While Ben and the EMT were wheeling Simon into the hospital for treatment, he saw Lucy Camden being wheeled off another ambulance.  Vaguely, Ben remembered the transmission he had ignored over the EMT's radio earlier:  "_Glenoak Acres Ranch and Paddock_.  Female, early twenties, fell off a horse and was knocked unconscious with a possible concussion."

"Oh no.  I don't believe this.  Kevin's going to be devastated!"

"Who's Kevin?" the EMT asked.

"My brother, the cop you met earlier.  That's his girlfriend on that stretcher over there.  And, strangely enough, she's also this kid's sister," he said as he pointed at Simon.

The EMT looked at him in disbelief.  "You're kidding."

Ben shook his head.  "I wish I were."

After a moment of thought, the EMT said, "Hey, wait a minute.  She took a spill off a horse, right?  Do you think she might have 'gone riding' on happy pills with her brother before she went horseback riding?"

Ben guffawed.  "Absolutely not.  You don't know these people.  They're extremely clean-living.  There's no way..."

The EMT cut him off, "Believe me, Ben, I've seen the supposedly impossible happen before.  I'd almost be willing to bet you money that if we tested her blood, we'd find the same substances as we found in this boy's blood."

"Yeah, well, we probably won't have a chance.  Looks like the hospital staff are ready to take over."

Ben and the EMT wheeled Simon into an empty emergency room while their counterparts wheeled Lucy into the one across the hall.  Nurses and doctors rushed in to work on the patients, and the EMT made sure to describe the condition in which she had found Simon.  She also mentioned to the staff working on Lucy that they should drug test her.

Then she stepped out into the hall, where Ben stood feeling lost and useless.  "So, what do we do now?" he shrugged.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going back to my job."

Ben watched helplessly as the EMT started to walk back down the hall toward the ambulance.  Desperately, he yelled after her, "Wait!  Could we maybe have dinner sometime or something?"

The EMT looked back at him somewhat pityingly.  "Ben, you're cute and everything, but you're not my type.  Sorry."  She turned and jogged back to her ambulance, and Ben just watched her in confusion.  What was up with these Glenoak women?  Why weren't they interested in him?  It was all very perplexing.

***

Ben sat down in the hospital waiting room wondering if any of the other Camdens would show up, and if so, in what condition?  After a few minutes, Ruthie and the twins arrived with a strange-looking man in a cowboy hat.  The man appeared to be very agitated with Ruthie, as he was waving his hands and practically shouting at her while he entered the waiting room.

"I told you, she signed a contract that released me from all liability.  You may be too young to understand this, but a contract is legally binding.  That means there's no way I can be held responsible for her accident."

"Oh, I understand the contract," Ruthie said.  "But if you didn't feel responsible, then why did you drive my brothers and me to the hospital?"

"I told you, I was just trying to be nice.  They said you were too young to ride in the ambulance, so I volunteered to drive you over here.  But now I'm sorry I did, you little nuisance."

"I still think you did it because you feel guilty."

The red-faced man turned to Ben and explained in frustration, "That's it.  I've had enough.  I don't care who you are and whether you know these three or not.  I'm leaving them with you.  I can't take another minute of this one."  He pointed to Ruthie.

"It's okay," Ben answered.  "I know them."

The man shook his head and said, "Then I feel sorry for you," before exiting the room.

"Who was that?" Ben asked Ruthie.

"Oh, that's the guy who owns the ranch where I keep my horse.  He's usually a lot nicer than that, but I think he's feeling pretty guilty about the way Lucy got hurt."

"How exactly _did_ Lucy get hurt?" Ben asked.

"Lucy fall down go boom," Sam offered.

"She fell off a horsey," David continued.  "The horsey was running fast when she fall down."

"Fall down go boom," Sam repeated.

"We were all out riding horses, she fell, and she hit her head on a rock when she landed," Ruthie finished.

Ben winced.  "Ouch.  I think I better call my brother and let him know.  You two stay right here."

"There's three of us," Ruthie chided him, wearing an annoyed smirk of disbelief.

Ben counted again.  One-two-three.  "Oh.  Right.  The three of you stay here while I call Kevin.  I'll only be a minute."

***

Not able to remember the Glenoak Police Department number off the top of his head, Ben had to look it up in the phone book.  Unfortunately, he couldn't figure out how to find it there, so he had to ask a passing nurse to find it for him.  She seemed a bit irritated, but she helped him nonetheless.

Finally, he got through to the GPD and asked for Kevin.  "What's up, bro?" asked the voice on the other end.

"Dude, I have some bad news.  We brought Simon into the hospital and, well, we were surprised to find an ambulance bringing Lucy in at the same time."

"What?"

"Yeah.  Apparently she took Ruthie and the twins out to ride horses, and there was an accident.  She fell and hit her head.  I'm not sure how bad it is."

Kevin cursed over the phone.  "I don't have time for this right now.  The crime lab is really close to a breakthrough on these baking pans."

"Um, okay," Ben muttered, wondering why Kevin was so darn concerned about those stupid pans at a time like this.  "Oh, by the way, that drug test we ran on Simon?  Came back positive for, like, everything."

"I _knew_ it!" Kevin shouted.  "Listen, Ben, I think I know what's going on here, and I have to run and do something very important before I can get to the hospital to be with Lucy.  Could you do me a huge favor and just hang in there with her until I get there?"

Ben smiled.  It had been a strange and perplexing day to be certain, but at least now he finally had a clear purpose in Glenoak that he was fully capable of fulfilling.  Just hanging around was definitely one of his fortes.  "Sure, bro.  Anything for you."


	17. The Confrontation

Gabrielle was having the dream again. She was making passionate love to Reverend Eric Camden, riding him like a stallion, riding, riding, about to reach her climax, when…

A loud banging on the door startled her awake.

"Gabrielle LaBelle?  Open up.  This is the Glenoak Police Department," a loud, male voice boomed.

"Good Lord, such a racket!  Are you trying to give a poor old woman a heart attack?"

"Ma'am, we need you to open the door."

Gabrielle rose from her nap and tiptoed across her room, down the hallway, and over to the basement door.  She hoped she could just placate the officer long enough to make her way downstairs and sneak out the basement exit.  "Keep your pants on.  I can't get to the door so fast in my old age."

"I can see you in there!" came the loud, male voice behind the front door.  "Don't even think about trying to sneak out through your basement door.  I've got backup covering that exit too."

Gabrielle wondered how the officer could possibly have seen her sneaking toward her basement, since there were no windows in her hallway.  Nonetheless, she figured it best to take him at his word.  Besides, if she could keep the doddering old woman routine going for a little while, maybe he would eventually just leave her alone.  She turned around and crossed to her front door, muttering under her breath all the way.  Upon opening it, she found Kevin Kinkirk squinting and grinning insincerely at her.

"May I come in, Mrs. LaBelle?"

"It's Ms., and I suppose I don't have any choice but to let you in, do I?"  Gabrielle motioned with her unbroken arm for him to enter.

Kevin rudely pushed his way forward into the narrow hallway.  He turned to face Gabrielle and asked, "Ms. LaBelle, where were you this morning?"

"This morning?  Oh, well, let's see.  The memory's not what it used to be.  I do remember that first thing this morning, I was here, sleeping."

"Did you, by any chance, wake up and go anywhere?" Kevin asked pointedly.

"Why, yes, I did wake up.  As for going anywhere, hmm, let's see.  I do seem to recall riding the bus somewhere this morning.  Where was it?"

"That's the million-dollar question," Kevin intoned patronizingly.

Since the cop didn't seem to be buying the dotty old lady routine, Gabrielle shifted tactics.  Time for an abrupt subject change.  "Hey, you look familiar.  Do I know you from somewhere?"

Kevin's jaw tightened.  "Answer the question.  Where did you go this morning?"

"Well, I got on the bus."

Kevin tapped his foot impatiently.  "We've established that.  Where exactly did you go on the bus?"

"Now just slow down, young man.  I need a minute to think."  Gabrielle brought her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes as if the effort were quite a chore.  "I seem to remember…yes, I went to see a friend of mine's son and his family."

"Could I have the name of the person whose house you went to?"

"Oh, sure.  If I can just remember it…"

"Just give me the name!"

The cop obviously wasn't going to leave her alone.  It was time to throw in the towel.  "Alright, alright.  His name is Eric Camden."

Kevin's eyes widened.  "Aha!  I knew it!  It's your fault Lucy's in the hospital!"

Gabrielle was genuinely shocked.  "Oh dear.  Lucy's in the hospital?  How on earth did that happen?"

"She fell off a horse and hit her head.  But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Kevin asked sarcastically.

"Excuse me?  I'm sorry to hear that, but what on earth does it have to do with me visiting her father's house?"

"The brownies.  It was the brownies, wasn't it?"

Gabrielle tried her best to look innocently confused.  "Brownies?  Hon, I have to tell you, you're not making a whole lot of sense here."

"You're the one who brought the laced brownies over, aren't you?"

"Whoa, darling.  I didn't bring any brownies over there, let alone 'laced' ones."

Kevin stuck his finger up to Gabrielle's face.  "Don't lie to me."

Gabrielle stared him down.  "I'm not lying."

"Oh no?  Then how did brownies laced with various controlled substances find their way into the Camden kitchen?"

Gabrielle shrugged.

"You don't know, huh?  Well, guess what.  I ran some fingerprints off the brownie pans I found in the kitchen, and it turns out they matched yours in the criminal database."

 "I don't see how that's possible, since I've never been fingerprinted before," Gabrielle fibbed.  Kevin raised a mistrusting eyebrow, and Gabrielle sighed.  "Alright, I admit it.  You're too smart for me.  I did bring the brownie pans over, and I mixed the brownies and got them started baking in the oven for the Camdens to enjoy.  But as for the narcotics making their way into the brownies, I can't explain that."

"Mm-hmm," Kevin squinted at her suspiciously.  For a moment Gabrielle thought he would just leave her alone with her partial admission, but then he began to scan her tiny apartment.  He walked around, checking out her little bedroom, looking under the mattress and in her drawers.

"See anything in there you like?" Gabrielle asked smartly as he rifled through some of her panties.

"Don't start with me," Kevin snapped back.  He walked over to her tiny bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet and checking under the lid of the toilet water tank.  Next he entered her cramped kitchen, where he searched every drawer and cabinet.  Still he found nothing.

Then his eyes wandered over to the basement door Gabrielle had made a move toward earlier.  "Ms. LaBelle, would you please open your basement door for me?"

"Oh, there's nothing you'd be interested in down there…"

Kevin saw the fear in her eyes and pressed harder.  "Open it!"

Nervously, Gabrielle crossed over and opened the creaky door.  Kevin reached up and pulled the cord to turn on the lone, bare light bulb, revealing damp, dank, dark stone walls.  He tromped down the rickety old wooden staircase.   Meanwhile, Gabrielle grabbed her heaviest cast-iron pan from the kitchen and followed him down.

When he reached the bottom landing and looked around, Kevin stood in awe.  "Wow.  This is even worse than I expected.  You've got yourself quite a drug lab down here, Ms. LaBelle.  I'm afraid you're under arr…"

But before Kevin could even finish his sentence, Gabrielle had brought the cast-iron pan down upon his head with as much force as her good arm could muster.  The blow was strong enough that it almost certainly would have knocked a normal human being unconscious, or at least dazed him enough to disable him.  Kevin Kinkirk, however, was no ordinary human being.

"That, Ms. LaBelle, was a serious mistake," Kevin said as he snapped his head back into place atop his neck.

Gabrielle dropped the iron pan in shock.  "My God, aren't you in some kind of pain?  That sounded horrible."

"No, I'm not."

"But, your head…"

"Is fine.  I know you're wondering how that could be.  How could I absorb a blow like that and not be hurt?  Well, I might as well explain everything.  It all starts with a man you know quite well."  Gabrielle stared at him blankly, still trying to figure out why this guy wasn't unconscious on the floor.  "Did you ever wonder what Eric Camden's father did after he retired from the Marines?"

"The Colonel?  What does he have to do with anything?"

"I'm getting to that.  The fact is that he didn't actually retire from the Marines.  Instead he was recruited by the CIA to work on a top-secret project."

Gabrielle nodded.  "You know, that doesn't surprise me.  He was always quite the go-getter.  Actually, that reminds me of how I first met him when he was in the military.  Oh, it's a lovely story.  We were both stationed in South Korea.  He was just a young ensign, and I was a civilian nurse.  My goodness, we had a passionate fling, I tell you!"

Kevin interrupted, "Ms. LaBelle, that is information that I frankly don't need to know.  Now as I was saying before, the Colonel became a top secret agent with access to some of the most advanced, highly classified technology our country possessed.  And with that technology he and his team created me, Kevin Kinkirk, also known as the T-1000, out of robotic parts and living human tissue.  I was designed to be the ultimate undercover agent for the purposes of espionage and super-secret warfare.  However, the Colonel's relationship with the Agency soured, and he decided to sneak me out from the research facility one night.  He then reprogrammed me to be the ultimate husband for one of his granddaughters, so that I could get close enough to spy on his family for him."

Gabrielle shook her head in disbelief.  "This is a lot to take in."

"I'm sure it is for your feeble human brain.  Now let me continue.  In addition, the Colonel's success in creating me also led him to try to create newer models.  Unfortunately, without the access to the high-quality materials and technology that membership in the Agency had provided him, none of the newer models were anywhere near as successful.  My brother, Ben, also known as the T-2000, suffered from major flaws in his processing capabilities.  He's not able to function at anywhere near the mental capacity that I am, and thus has much more difficulty interacting successfully with women.  He's also extremely bad with numbers.

"Good lord, I had no idea that the Colonel had been up to such things," Gabrielle commented.

"But wait, there's more," Kevin continued.  "My sister, Patty Mary, also known as the Fembot-80, failed in her mission to become the ultimate wife for Simon Camden, as she suffered from an unexplainable desire to experiment sexually with women.  She's now living in San Francisco with her girlfriend, who still doesn't know that she's a cyborg.  And then there's the cyborg that the Colonel created to act as our mother."

At the mention of his mother, Kevin shook his head.  Gabrielle wondered if it was just for show, or if the cyborg was really capable of feeling sorrow.  It was difficult to tell what emotion the half-machine was trying to project, if any.  However, if this were something he was truly feeling upset about, perhaps it could be an angle for her to play.

After collecting himself, he continued, "The Mombot was the worst failure of all.  Her body wasn't able to properly manufacture hormones in the correct amounts, causing her to malfunction and develop an unhealthy dependence on pills and alcohol to maintain her balance."

"Well as you can see, I could help her with that," Gabrielle said, motioning to her laboratory.

The T-1000 glared at her.  "How dare you joke about my mother?"

"I'm dead serious, killer.  Name her poison, I can figure out how to make it down here.  I'm the best damn nurse a patient could ever ask for.  Just ask the Colonel.  Why do you think he still keeps in touch with me?" Gabrielle winked mischievously.

Kevin smirked.  "Oh no you don't.  I see what you're doing.  You're trying to distract me from the fact that you drugged up my girlfriend and caused her to injure herself."

"Oh come on.  You don't really think I'm the one who hurt her, do you?" Gabrielle asked as charmingly as possible.

The T-1000 squinted at her.  "Yes I do, because, Ms. LaBelle, I'm programmed to solve puzzles like this.  So when I arrived at the Camden household this afternoon, saw Simon on the rooftop, discovered that his room was torn up like a speed freak's, and that unfamiliar brownie pans were downstairs in the kitchen, I started running all the possible permutations of what could have happened.  It led me to conclude that someone had brought brownies laced with narcotics into the house.  Simon, being a growing teenage boy, ate more brownies than anyone else and therefore had the most violent reaction.  He entered his room, turned it upside down, and then climbed or fell from his bedroom window.  From there, he climbed a tree and fell onto his rooftop, where he passed out.  Similarly, Lucy must have been impaired from eating your brownies when she took that fateful horse ride this afternoon.  As a formality I delivered the brownie pans to the crime lab for analysis.  Their results won't come back for a while, but I already know they'll come back positive."

"Oh, they'll come back positive," Gabrielle admitted.  "But if the boy had just stuck to the brownies in his pan, none of this would have happened.  I'll bet Ruthie didn't give my message to the family."

"What are you talking about?" Kevin asked.

"I made different brownies for each family member, and Ruthie was supposed to make sure that no one mixed them.  Ruthie and the twins just had normal brownies.  Simon and Lucy's were laced with some mind-expanding little numbers, because they really needed to look at their lives from a new perspective.  Eric's had some sexual-performance enhancers in it, because he could have used a good shagging.  And his wife's had some relaxing, mood-altering puppies in there, because lord knows that woman needed to calm the heck down."

Kevin shook his head disdainfully.  "That's sick."

Gabrielle put her hand on her hip.  "Oh that's rich, coming from a half-machine who's duped someone into becoming his girlfriend in the hopes of spying on her family.  You know, when it comes right down to it, we're not that different, you and I."

Kevin squinted.  "How do you mean?"

"We're both doing what we're doing for the good of the Camdens, out of loyalty to the Colonel."

"There is a significant difference, though," Kevin said.  "What I'm doing won't end up getting any of the Camdens hurt or killed.  Unfortunately, I can't say the same for you."  Kevin pulled his police weapon from his holster and aimed it at Gabrielle.  "You see, now that I've exposed the Colonel and myself to you, I'll have to kill you."

Gabrielle knew it was time to think fast, so she whistled.  "Wow.  I gotta hand it to the Colonel.  He did a hell of a job with you.  And he made you sexy too.  You look so hot with that gun in your hand."

Kevin smirked.  "I know."

Gabrielle laughed nervously.  "Of course you do.  But really, killing me won't be necessary.  Trust me, old Gabrielle can keep a secret.  If this underground drug lab isn't evidence of that, then I don't know what is."

"You're probably right, but I'm afraid there's no way out of it.  I'm programmed to kill anyone who discovers me."

Gabrielle decided to go back to the one thing that might disarm the cyborg:  "But who will supply your mother with the medication she needs if you kill me?"

"The Colonel has connections.  He'll find someone."

Gabrielle shook her head.  "Come on, honey.  You're not fooling this old broad.  I can tell from the look on your face she's not doing so hot right now.  Let old Gabrielle take care of her.  I can diagnose her and mix her up something just right."

Kevin tried to ignore her.  "Perhaps I could just figure out how to run this equipment myself.  I'm sure if I worked at it long enough I could figure out a formulation for her…"

Gabrielle snorted.  "Oh, that would look outstanding.  A Glenoak Police Officer running his very own drug lab?  What would you do if you got caught?"

"I wouldn't get caught.  I'm trained to be covert, remember?"  Kevin lowered his weapon.  "But there's no denying, you could help my mother better than I could."  Then he lifted his weapon again.  "But I'm programmed to kill you."  Then he lowered his weapon again.  "But you could help my mother.  But I'm programmed to kill you.  But you could help my mother.  But I'm programmed to kill you…"

Realizing that she had somehow managed to stick the T-1000 in a circular logic loop that he could not get out of, Gabrielle grabbed a gasoline can from one of her lab cabinets.  Then she laid down a gasoline trail leading from her lab equipment up the stairs to her front door.  After emptying the can, she chucked it inside the house, lit a match, tossed it on the floor, and ran away as fast as her legs would carry her.  Several seconds later, the house exploded with the T-1000 still inside.

Gabrielle picked herself up from the ground and dusted herself off.  "Hmph," she chuckled to herself.  "They haven't made the cyborg yet that could outsmart Gabrielle LaBelle.  Now that the evidence is destroyed, it's off to Mexico to lay low, drink some tequila, and take a grande siesta.  Maybe now I can finally finish that dream!"


	18. The Resolution

Ben twiddled his thumbs as he sat and waited in the hospital room.  He checked his watch.  7:45:13 PM.  A fat, frumpy nurse in a yellowing uniform slowly waddled over to the front desk clerk to submit some paperwork.  It seemed to take her five minutes to cross the room. 

Ruthie sat beside Ben, mindlessly thumbing through a way out-of-date nature magazine while also leisurely snapping on a piece of chewing gum.

Snap.  Snap…SNAP!

Ben checked his watch again.  7:45:32 PM.  "_Oh man this is boring.  When is Kevin gonna get here?  And where in the world are Eric and Annie?_"

"How long do we have to sit here?" Ruthie grumbled, obviously feeling the same boredom as Ben.

Ben sighed.  "I don't know what else to do.  Kevin told me to wait here and keep an eye on Lucy."

"OK.  Why don't you keep doing that while I take a cab home to see if Mom and Dad are there?"

Ben frowned.  "I don't like the idea of letting you go off by yourself."

"Hmm."  Ruthie thought for a moment.  "I know!  I'll call Lou."

"Who's Lou?"

"Some guy my father works with.  I think he's like his boss or something."

"I thought God was your father's boss."

Ruthie rolled her eyes.  "You don't know anything about the way churches are run, do you?"

Ben shrugged.  "No, I guess not.  So, this guy is OK?  You trust him and everything?"

Ruthie screwed up her face.  "Not really.  He's kind of a sneaky jerk.  But I don't know who else would be willing to give me a car ride home."

"_Man, I'm hungry_.  _Those Oreos in that snack machine are looking pretty darn good right about now.  Mmm, chocolatey outside.  Creamy inside.  Come to Daddy,_" Ben fantasized, losing the flow of his conversation with Ruthie in the process.  After a moment, he realized Ruthie was expecting him to say something.  "_What was she talking about again?  Getting a ride home from some guy?_  _Yeah, that sounds right.  Ah, what do I care?_"  "Sure.  Go ahead and call him, I guess."

Ruthie smiled and dashed over to the pay phone, while the twins babbled incomprehensibly to each other behind the waiting room seats.

---------------

In a few moments, Lou showed up at the hospital with two guests in tow.  "Ruthie, Ben, this is our new Associate Pastor, Chandler Hampton."

"Oh, we've met," Ruthie glowered.  "He's the guy who's trying to steal my father's job."

"It's…not like that," Chandler growl-whispered.

"Whatever."  Ruthie smiled and waved at Lou's other guest.  "Hey, Peter."

"Hey, sweetie.  Chandler was just giving me some special one-on-one training to be an altar boy when you called.  Right, Chandler?"  Peter winked as Chandler's face turned crimson.

Lou and Ben eyed the Associate Pastor suspiciously.

"It's…not like that," Chandler growl-whispered.

Lou cleared his throat and drawled, "Aaanyway, Chandler and Peter volunteered to help us find your parents, Ruthie.  Let's go!"

The four of them left the waiting room and headed for the parking lot, where they climbed into Lou's black Lexus and drove off toward the Camden homestead.

"Thank God.  I thought they'd never leave.  Oreos, you are all mine and I ain't sharing!" Ben announced to no one as he walked across the waiting room to the snack machine.

"Mmm, cookies!" David said to Sam as the two of them watched Ben tear into the package from behind the waiting room chairs.

"Hungry!" Sam agreed.

Ben dumped all the cookies into his mouth at the same time and ate them in one giant gulp, not at all noticing the twins as they stared hungrily at him.

---------------

"Hey, I can see you two in the rearview mirror.  Break it up back there," Lou admonished Peter and Ruthie for closed-mouth kissing in the backseat.

"Yeah.  Don't you two…barely know each other?" Chandler asked huskily.

"You obviously don't know how Camden relationships work," Ruthie explained impatiently.  "First, we make out in plain view of authority figures.  Then we get married so that we can have adult relations.  And then we get to know the person we married and find out that we don't really like that person at all."

"It's true," Lou nodded.

Chandler shook his head in amazement.  "You people are…weird."

As he pulled into the Camden driveway, Lou chirped, "OK, we're here.  Let's go see if your parents are inside."

"Fine, but I still think that if they were actually home, they would have answered the phone when Ruthie called," Peter interjected pointlessly.

"Not necessarily," Ruthie countered.  "When we left the house earlier today, they were having adult relations in their room.  Sometimes that can turn into an all-day, phone-off-the-hook event for those two old freaks."

"Ew!" Chandler rasped.

The four of them entered the house and searched the first floor, but all they found was Happy whining next to her empty food dish.  "I bet they're in their bedroom upstairs," Ruthie sing-songed in an I-told-you-so tone.

"Ew!" Chandler rasped.

Slowly, dreading the sight that awaited them, the four climbed the stairs.  As they reached the top and looked down the hallway, they saw that the Camden parents' bedroom door was closed.

Lou took a deep breath and said, "I'll go knock."

After Lou rapped twice, a rustling sound could be heard from inside the room.  Presently the door opened to reveal Eric Camden, wrapped in a sheet and looking very exhausted and sleepy.  "Lou.  What are you doing here?"

"Eric, I've got some bad news.  Simon and Lucy have both had accidents.  They're in the hospital."

Eric looked bewildered.   "The hospital?  But how?"

"Why don't you and Annie get some clothes on and come with me," Lou said.  "I'll explain on the way."

"But…we can't all fit in the car," Chandler noted.

"That's OK, Chandler," Peter smiled.  "I live just a few houses down the block.  Why don't you walk me home?  You can pick up where you left off with that special one-on-one altar boy training."

Eric eyed his Associate Pastor suspiciously as the man's face turned bright red.

"It's…not like that," Chandler growl-whispered.

---------------

In front of the Promenade movie theater, dressed in her most revealing red number, Roxanne Richardson checked her watch for the fifteenth time.  "_Twenty minutes late.  That's not like Kevin.  That little trollop of his must be purposely holding him up_."

A muscular, handsome young gentleman wearing tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt walked by and gave her what was surely intended to be a deep, meaningful look.

"_Oh well.  Can't let this dress go to waste.  Those two are on their own_," Roxanne smirked as she followed her prey into Pete's Pizza.

---------------

Lucy Camden awoke to see her brother Simon sitting in a chair next to her bed.  His arm was in a sling, and he looked as though he felt rather ill.  "Simon, what happened to your arm?  And what are you doing here?  And come to think of it, where is here?  And ow, why does my head hurt so bad?"

"Shh, calm down, Luce," Simon entreated her.  "You've had an accident.  You're in the hospital.  Obviously I had one too."  He pointed to his arm-sling.

"An accident?  But I don't remember anything."

"That's OK, neither do I."

"Really?  That's weird."

"Yeah, tell me about it.  Although I do seem to remember having this really weird dream."

"Me too!"

"Oh yeah?  What happened in yours?"

"I…can't exactly remember.  All I remember is that I really wanted to start doing stuff like Habitat for Humanity again.  You know, do some charity work.  Use my hands again."

"Wow.  That sounds great."

"Yeah, it kinda does, doesn't it?  What about your dream?"

"I don't remember mine that well either.  Except I really wanted to break up with Cecilia.  And I decided I never want to join the military.  And for some reason I think Morris and Robbie were there.  Now I want to give Morris a call.  You know, just to see how college is going for him and stuff."

"Well, you should do that."

"Yeah."  Simon smiled at his sister.  "Luce, I'm really glad you're going to be OK.  The nurses said you'd taken a pretty nasty spill."  Simon's smile faded into a frown.  "They also told me…well, it's kind of hard to believe."

"What is it, Simon?"

Simon drew a deep breath and looked straight into Lucy's eyes.  "They told me that you and I both had drugs in our bloodstreams."

"What?" Lucy gasped.

"Like I said, hard to believe.  But it would explain this splitting headache I have right now, and why I can't remember how I got it.  All I remember is eating brownies and then lying down for a nap."

"Well I don't even remember eating brownies, so you're one step ahead of me."

Suddenly Eric and Annie Camden rushed into the room.

"Oh, Simon, Lucy!  I'm so glad you're OK!" Annie rushed over to kiss each of her children on the cheek.

Meanwhile Eric Camden rubbed his chin and stared at the floor, disbelievingly pondering the news the doctor had told him.  Two separate accidents.  Intoxicants in their bloodstreams.  How could this have happened, especially on an afternoon when everything had seemed so beautiful?

"Hello, Dad," Lucy's quiet voice interrupted his troubled thoughts.

"Hello, dear," Eric replied just as quietly.  "How's your head?"

"It really hurts.  And I can't remember what happened."

Eric sighed.  "Ruthie said you went to her ranch to ride horses.  You took a bad fall off one of them and hit your head on a rock."

"Really?  I don't remember that at all.  I was telling Simon, all I remember is having this really weird dream."

Annie glanced at Eric, and Eric looked back at her.  He sighed again.  "You know, the doctor told us that traces of narcotics were found in your bloodstream.  Those probably weren't dreams.  More likely, they were hallucinations."

Lucy wanted to shake her head but it hurt too much to do so.  "That's what Simon told me, but I just can't believe it.  I mean, I've never touched drugs in my life."

"It was those brownies.  I guarantee it," Annie hissed.

"Yeah, it had to be the brownies.  Eating them is the last thing I remember," said Simon.

"Calm down, everyone," Eric said.  "That hasn't been proven yet.  Ben said Kevin's working on it."

"Who?" asked Lucy.

"Ben's brother, Kevin.  Remember?  Your boyfriend?"

Lucy stared blankly.  "No.  I have a boyfriend?"

Annie looked at Eric nervously.  "Oh no!  Eric, she's forgotten about Kevin.  What are we going to do?"

Eric shrugged.  "Roll with it?"

Annie put her hand on her hip.  "What are you talking about?"

"Well, she probably has a bit of amnesia, and I've heard that it can be very traumatic to try to push an amnesiac back into a life they don't remember.  Maybe we should just ask Kevin to lay low for a while.  He could probably take a break and go back to Buffalo with Ben."

Annie strongly wanted to express her disapproval of Eric's idea, but the man had just finished making five straight hours of sweet love to her.  She felt as if she owed him a debt of wifely submission.  Plus she saw the sexy way her husband's lip was creased in the corner a bit, the way it always did when he got concerned.  And after five headboard-banging hours of hot sweaty monkey intercourse, Annie could not let her handsome, manly husband be concerned.  "OK, Eric.  We'll explain the situation to Kevin when we see him, and politely ask him to let Lucy recover her memories before he comes back into her life."

Eric looked thoughtfully at his wounded daughter and son for a moment, and then looked back into his wife's eyes.  "I hate that we have to do this.  I hate that some woman who I thought was a savior ended up drugging our kids and completely changing their lives."

"Oh, Eric, it's not your fault.  I'm the one who let her into the house.  And besides, the Colonel was the one who sent her in the first place.  If there's anyone you should be mad at, it's him."

A fire began to smolder behind Eric's eyes.  "You know, I'm afraid you're right, Annie.  It seems like I'm always getting mad at him and then forgiving him, but this time he has crossed a line.  My kids have been seriously hurt due to his overbearing actions.  As of this moment, I vow that neither he nor any of his henchmen or women or friends or wives or adopted sons will ever set foot in our house again.  I'm through with him."

Annie smiled and kissed her husband on the lips rather passionately.

"Ew, get a room you two," Simon groaned.  "And man, am I hungry.  Could one of you please go get me some potato chips?  And some pretzels?  And maybe see if you can get me some of that cafeteria Jell-O…"

---------------

Two weeks later, the Glenoak Police Department's lab tests on the crumbs in the brownie pans were still inconclusive, and therefore no charges could be brought against Gabrielle LaBelle.  Even had they been able to charge her, they would have had no luck whatsoever in finding her.

In addition, the GPD's search for missing officer Kevin Kinkirk was still in progress.  However, his former girlfriend Lucy Camden still did not remember him, and so the Camden family decided it would be better if he were never found.  Detective Michaels graciously accommodated their wishes by calling off the search and closing the case.  However, Roxanne Richardson, Kevin's former partner, was still rather bothered by the disappearance.  She was absolutely certain it had something to do with that strange, unexplained explosion in that little house near the town center, but there was simply no evidence to corroborate her suspicion.

Across the country in Buffalo, New York, Ben Kinkirk moved back in with his mother.  She wasn't taking the news that Kevin had disappeared very well, and he figured he should be there for her even though he really didn't know what the hell to do to help.

On the other side of town from Ben, in a secret basement laboratory, the Colonel opened a large package sent to him by one of his old CIA buddies.  Inside, he found the charred mass of human flesh and metal that had once been his most proud creation.  "I knew you would come back to me, Private T-1000.  Thanks to the spycam in your eye and the microphone in your ear, I saw and heard what that awful woman Gabrielle, whom I used to love and trust so dearly, did to you.  Don't worry.  I'll build you back up, better and stronger than ever before.  Lucy Camden will be yours, and full access to the Camdens' doings will be mine via your spying and signal transmission capabilities.  I'll rename you the Stalkerbot-3000.  Together, we'll gain complete control over the family!  How does that sound?"

As the Colonel fiddled with some wires, hoping to bring his prized creation back to life, a spark somewhere within the cyborg lit.  Unfortunately, he was still stuck in the same circular logic loop that Gabrielle had lured him into before she destroyed him.  "But I'm programmed to kill you," he said, pulling his partially molten gun from his holster and pointing it at the Colonel.  Somehow, it still worked, and he blasted the Colonel straight through the heart, killing him instantly.

"Oh no!" the cyborg shouted, finally snapping out of the circular loop.  "What have I done to my creator?"  The charred half-machine dropped his pistol and knelt over the Colonel's lifeless body.  "Gabrielle LaBelle, you will pay for this.  If it is the last thing my programming ever dictates that I do, I will make sure that you are destroyed!"

The cyborg secretly buried the Colonel – another unexplained disappearance related to the Camden family.  Then, for months afterward, he stealthily snuck in and out of CIA headquarters in order to steal highly advanced parts with which to rebuild himself.  After he felt certain that he was rebuilt stronger and faster than he had ever been before, not to mention loaded with new extra features, he finally decided it was time to begin his journey to track down and kill Gabrielle LaBelle.

But that, dear readers, is another story altogether.

END


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